Hear them chatter on the tide
by A.A. Pessimal
Summary: A new animal species is always of interest. But has the Ankh-Morpork City Zoo acquired more than it bargained for? Currently unable to put this in "Zoo Tales" as I can't access "Manage Stories". so it's a new tale, for now. Bonus points for anyone who realises the title is a song lyric ...
1. I am becalmed, lost to nothing

_**A sort of a Zoo Tale**_

_Returning to the Ankh-Morpork City Zoo, by a roundabout route_

Ponder Stibbons bent anxiously over the omniscope, seeking to remotely follow what the person on the other end was seeing. An indistinct voice crackled out of the air. In a high-magic environment like Unseen University, reception was poor and full of static crackling, although the person at the other end of the link was only a couple of hundred yards away, in the University kitchen pantries. The voice informed him the speaker was entering the danger area now. Guidance would be required as to the exact location of the item in question. Over.

"Responding. Over."

Ponder turned to confer with the university's butler, who was standing next to him behind the emergency crowd barriers the Watch had established. These held back a crowd of Wizards drawn to a disturbance, students, and University catering staff who were expressing gratitude for an impromptu break.

"Keep going straight down your current corridor. There will be a door marked Maximum Security Pantry. The problem is in there. Over."

The crackling static voice acknowledged him. A snatch of alien music drifted in and then out again, followed by the baffling words

"_Cab sixty-nine? Are you able to pick up from Alma Street, Worseley, in ten minutes for Hope Hospital?"_**(1)**

Omniscopes didn't work too well in an environment where even the stones of the buildings were saturated with centuries of natural and induced magic. All sort of things could break in. Ponder supposed it was some sort of healing mantra.

He risked another look round. A group of student Assassins had built a round tower of sandbags, three deep and two feet high. Like many prudent establishments near the river, Unseen University had a stock of ready sandbags against flooding. This could have other uses.

And there was Mrs Whitlow, arms akimbo, looking distinctly annoyed. She'd backed up the Head Chef in calling for the kitchens and butteries and pantries to be evacuated, after It had been discovered. She did not like disruptions to the smooth daily life of her University. An uncharacteristically sheepish looking Mustrum Ridcully had authorised expenditure on a resolution of the problem. Hence the Assassins.

Ponder saw an arm extend – at least, he suspected it was an arm – and very carefully push open a large oaken door reinforced with steel and octiron plates. The voice requested further guidance.

"On the shelf. To your immediate right. The single, er, item, three shelves down from the top – do you see it?"

The voice acknowledged. The omniscope view turned to a single ominous-looking bottle, its top stoppered and bound in place with steel wires, cold icy frosting on its exterior. The contents were a still, dark brown, oily fluid. It sat, ominously alone, on an otherwise cleared shelf.

"I see it_...{{crackle}} And now on fabulous Radio Luxembourg 208! {{crackle}} _Ponder, what is _wrong _withthis.._.{{crackle}} The groovy new tune from Golden Earring...{{crackle}} _The device seems inert. I believe it will be possible to remove it. I am lifting it... now. _{{crackle}}"_

There was a series of loud explosive and percussive noises. Ponder winced. Then he realised it was supposed to be music. The noise eased into a low, insistent, bass rumble backed by drums.

"I could really do without the music, Ponder." said the voice. He saw the bottle, held steadily in one outstretched hand. The background shifted and rotated as the unseen speaker retraced their steps out of the pantry.

_I've been drivin' all night, my hand's wet on the wheel... {{crackle, hiss}} _I will ettempt to remove this device so it cen be safely be disposed of outside this building. Stend by. _{{crackle, hiss, crackle}}It's my baby callin', said I need you here! And it's a half-past four and I'm shiftin' gear._

Ponder watched as the bottle made its slow, steady progress through the Great Hall to the outside door. He hoped this thing would resolve itself soon. Or the evening meal would be late. And that would annoy a lot of wizards. Who'd complain at him.

_When she is lonely and the longing gets too much, She sends her comfort rainin' in from above..._

And then there was...

Something that looked like an animated pepperpot came gliding out through the door. It was just over five feet tall and appeared to have no visible legs. The massed wizards went "aaaah" in anticipation of a not-too-delayed evening meal. The student Assassins sat or stood up straight as the apparition approached the minimal sandbag tower.

_We got a thing that's called radar love..._

"HEX? Can you do anything at all about this music that's breaking through?" Ponder inquired. He strongly suspected that HEX had a quirk for Roundworld Music With Rocks In. It had been something called Pink Floyd last time.

Ponder, like all Wizards, had seen stranger things in the University. Knowing what he was looking at was Johanna Smith-Rhodes in protective clothing modified from two sets of Dwarfish knockerman suits didn't make it any stranger.**(2)** He crossed his fingers as she moved, slowly and with care, to the sandbags. With her free hand, she beckoned a student. Chainmail rattled.

"Cushion. Now." she said. The student lowered a perfectly normal armchair cushion into the middle of the sandbagged enclosure. With infinite care, Johanna lowered the bottle onto it. She moved back.

"Now." she said.

The students ran forward, bringing a relay of sandbags, which were stacked three-deep until the protective tower was seven feet tall.

"That will do, I think."

She took off the tall conical helmet and shook out long red hair. Holding the helmet in one hand, she moved off to join her students.

"Now we hev contained the thing, we need to work out how to safely dispose of it." she said, looking back to the tower of sandbags.

"You constructed the sangar very well end very quickly, by the way. Thet wes commendable."

Before anyone had a chance to reply or even respond, there was a sudden eruption of noise, fire and smoke. Windows rattled. Student Assassins and wizards dived for cover. Smoke and lurid red flame soared up from the chimney of sandbags; vaporised sandbag and baked sand erupted up into the sudden mushroom cloud that shot a hundred feet or so into the air above the university. As it ebbed down, nobody spoke. As baked dry sand pattered down all around her, Johanna, who hadn't moved a muscle, flicked her hair back from her face. She nodded, reflecting that combing this stuff out would take _ages_.

"Well, there's a bottle of Wow-Wow Sauce I won't see again in a hurry." Mustrum Ridcully said, almost mournfully. Johanna made a mental note to add the cost of a remedial session at Conina's hairdressing salon to the bill. With Guild tax.

"_Now_ we've sorted _that_ out, Arch-chancellor." Mrs Whitlow said, in a meaningfully carrying voice. "We can perhaps get back to business?"

"What? Oh yes, Mrs Whitlow. Everything safe now, m'dear? Good. Kitchen staff can return to work! Crack on, people, First Dinner's already ten minutes late!"

The University catering staff hastily knocked out pipes and cigarettes and ran back to work. Nobody wanted to keep wizards late for meals.

"Erch-chencellor." Johanna said. "I brought my cless out here to essist in the safe disposal of a dangerous explosive substence. By now they will hev missed high dinner et the Guild. I'm sure you can find room et table for these students?"

"Of course, m'dear." Ridcully hastily agreed. "Least we can do, nobeless obliges, and all that."

"_Gut!"_ she said. "Cless, whet hev we learnt today?"

Her class in Applied Exothermic Alchemy, all older Assassin students on the Black Track, picked up alertly.

"That Wow-Wow Sauce is very dangerous, miss?"

"_Ja."_ she replied. "Exceedingly so, end the older and more unstable it gets, the more dangerous it becomes."

She turned to Ridcully. He shuffled his feet, abashed under her frank gaze.

"Well.. you know. That was a bottle I brought here when I first became Arch-chancellor. Well over ten years ago now. I can't think how, but it was, er, _overlooked._ Until earlier today."

"You did the correct thing, sir. I em proud to say the Guild of Essessins now hes the expertise to safely deal with such things end neutralise them in controlled detonations. End we are _learning._ Ell the time!"

She beckoned her students forwards, and ducked inside the knockerman suit, her head disappearing completely. Four students lifted it high enough for her to be able to scramble out from underneath.

"You have now witnessed the velue of correct protective clothing when dealing with rogue exothermic devices." she said, conversationally. Her students nodded. Johanna timed her next remark perfectly.

"Of course, the Dwarfs from whom I obtained this bespoke suit elso told me a little Dwarf-lore." she said. "One of the purposes of the knockerman suit is to ensure thet if an explosion, such as thet generated by a twelve-year old bottle of Wow-Wow Sauce, were to heppen while I em _holding_ the bottle, there would be enough of me left inside the suit to justify a coffin et my funeral. Es we Essessins ere nothing if not _considerate_ people, it would spare a clean-up squed heving to scrape me off the walls and ceiling. It keeps things reletively neat end tidy."**(2)**

She watched her students go pale, and cheerfully added:

"This suit would be no protection egainst blest demage end concussive injury et point-blenk range. It does, however, protect egainst fire end flame end gives a degree of protection if the blest is some distence eway, es you all witnessed."

She smiled.

"I will be running field exercises soon, where each of you will have the opportunity to wear this suit end witness a nearby explosion. If you keep your heads, it will be safe. Now. _Efter_ you essist in clearing up. You ere ebout to be shown hospitelity by Wizerds. I counsel you to remember thet you ell hev physical ectivity tomorrow. Therefore do not over-indulge et table. Cell this a prectical test in self-discipline end restraint."

She would have said more, but a university bledlow lumbered cautiously towards her holding a message. He saluted, lobster-faced.

"Miss Smith-Rhodes of the Guild of Assassins?" he said, un-necessarily. "Message for you, miss. Relayed from Filigree Street."

Johanna took the clacks message with thanks. She read it, and frowned.

"Cless, I have to leave." she said. "A situation hes erisen concerning my responsibilities elsewhere. It is pest the end of the School day, but you ere all senior students end I know I cen trust you to return to your dorms et the eppropriate time. Do not let me down, end thenk you for your essistence. Enjoy your dinner here, but do not overindulge. Professor Stibbons, I need your edvice."

She walked off, Ponder joining her. She gave him the message to read.

"Verity Pushpram?" he said, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"_Ja._ It is perplexing, es she is no stranger to things thet ere brought up in fishing nets. She hes seen strange things come out of the sea, but she normally finds people prepared to eat them. If she hes esked for my edvice, then this is a strange fish indeed! Come with me, Ponder? This intrigues me. Very much so."

Johanna had a working relationship with Verity Pushpram, who through marriage had a half-share in a small fishing fleet. She had grown quietly rich with a fishmongering business she had built in her own right. While her knowledge of edible aquatic life was second to none and she had built up a broad knowledge base, every so often something swam, crawled, scuttled or slithered into her catch-nets that she couldn't identify or ascertain the edibility of. If it was something that not even the city's Agatean community would care to put into its _squishi_,**(3)** Verity would try to keep it alive, or at least fresh, so that the Zoo or the Animal Management Unit could put a name to it. Johanna had acquired a few interesting aquarium specimens this way, as well as dealing with occasional occupational hazards such as Deep Sea Bloatfish or Irritable Squid that periodically appeared.

Ponder, reasoning that he could pick up a pizza later, cheerfully agreed. He called a cab from Arts Gratia, charging it to the University's account. Fifteen minutes later, they were at Pearl Dock, where fishing boats back from the long trek into the safer parts of the Circle Sea **(4)** unloaded their catch. Verity had a gutting and preparation business here, a long cold shed on the dockside. She welcomed Johanna warmly, one professional woman to another. They had built a mutual understanding over the years. Anything caught that was new and not edible went to the aquariums at the Zoo, if it was still alive, for evaluation and examination. If it was alive, bloody dangerous and irritable, it was segregated off and went either to the Zoo or the Assassins' Guild's Animal Management Unit, that had safe containment facilities. The Maximum Security Aquarium at the AMU was a thing of specialised wonder. **(5)**

* * *

"Hi, Johanna!" Verity said, moving her head slightly from side to side so as to keep her at least in half-focus. Johanna shook bits of University out of her hair.

"Bit of a beng et the university." she explained. "I wes stending closer to it than I would have liked. Got a hair-brush?"

"And a lot more. Rowena, would you fetch a hairbrush? There's one in the office. Thanks!" Verity said. "Come and look at this..."

Johanna and Ponder were led down the gutting and packing lines, staffed by men and women of several species who were industriously at work. Fish guts were being trucked off either for Harry King's compostors, or to sell as speciality food for gnolls and goblins. Nothing got wasted.

Trying to disregard the pervading fishy smell, Ponder was relieved when they were led into a side-store where a huge metal tank sat in a vat of ice.

Verity's office clerk, a respectable-looking woman in her thirties, scuttled in with the desired hair-brush. Johanna stood by the tank, thoughtfully cleaning sand, grit and University out of her long red hair, looking to Ponder's eyes like a better class of mermaid dressed in khaki uniform. He wondered about the blue luminescence and wanted to step forward for a better view of what was inside. But instincts of caution honed by a University education stopped him. Besides, he'd had some truly bowel-clenching moments in Johanna's company, as she hunted, tracked, and trapped some interesting examples of Nature's bounty and variety. He wasn't going to look until she said it was safe. To her interpretation of the meaning of the word "safe", anyway.

"Hes the creature displayed eny signs of hostility, Verity?" she asked, finishing her hair. She'd used the time to get a feel for what she was dealing with, and how whatever was inside the tank would react to the proximity of a human. She did not feel any obvious signs of fright or anger. No intensity of noise, as of a shark threshing round inside a very small tank, maddened by the smell of blood and chum in a fish-packing shed, and willing to go for the first meat it saw.

Verity Pushpram shook her head.

"With this thing – things – you wouldn't normally expect aggression, Johanna." she said. "Well... they tend to slam the shell shut on anyone who gets their fingers inside looking for pearls. But that's as vicious as they normally get."

Johanna stepped forward, raised her head to the level of the tall deep tank, and looked inside. Ponder heard her whistle and exclaim _"Jislaik!" ._ At the same time, the bright blue radiance increased, reflecting on the inside of the ceiling. He reached for a thaumometer.

"Well, I've never seen them _thet _colour before." she said, thoughtfully. "Step up end take a look, Ponder, it's perfectly safe!"

Reluctantly, he stepped forwards, and lifted his head up with infinite caution.

The water was a radiant blue, illuminated from somewhere underneath. It took a while for Ponder to realise what he was looking at. Then he saw it: a bed of bright electric-blue oysters. One large one, flanked by maybe thirty little ones. They were the source of the blue luminescence. Even the mother-of-pearl of their shells was a livid iridescent electric blue colour.

"One of the boats was fishing out along the Circle Sea coast around the mouth of the Quire". Verity said. "The skipper was trawling an oyster bed we discovered out that way – technically in Quirm as it was a little way upstream, but if anyone _official_ asks, Johanna, it was the coastal waters on the Ankh-Morpork side."

"Well, so long es _we _know exactly where." Johanna said. "The secret's safe with me for Customs purposes. End they normelly do not read scientific papers. Most of the Wetch hev difficulty with the long words in the talk bubbles in comics."

They grinned, understanding each other.

Ponder, still trying to make sense of what he was looking at, heard Johanna and Verity reaching an agreement behind him.

… _They are certainly of scientific interest..._

_...Usually you can sell anything to somebody. In this city somebody's going to eat it.(_**7)**_ But I can't see a market for those. Anywhere._

_...A new species. They will certainly be of interest. I will esk Ponder to check them for megic..._

Ponder belatedly looked at the thaumometer. He activated it, and frowned at the readings he was getting. They didn't make sense...

_...they're yours if you want them, Johanna._

_...Thenk you. I will make the usual donation to the Fishermens' Benevolent Fund. I know there are many widows end orphans._

_...will you take them away soon? People here get a bit restive about strange things that come up in nets. Remember the last time, with the squid? _**(8)**

_will send some golems with a tenk. I will move these for study end isolation et the Zoo or the Unit._

"Whet are you getting, Ponder?" she asked him, looking over his shoulder.

"It's a really confused signal, Johanna. It's a little bit God, a little bit residual magic, as if something big happened anything up to a thousand years ago and I'm getting the echoes. My best guess is some sort of god or other supernatural entity created these, for whatever reason, then got bored and abandoned them."

"Bloody Gods." Verity said. "Typical of them." She paused, and nodded towards an all-purpose shrine in the corner of the gutting shed. "Except you, Libertina, who gives fishermen calm seas and good catches. And you, Cephut, who keeps the gutting knives sharp, and you, Anoia, who makes sure the knife drawer doesn't jam, and the one whose name begins with D, who doesn't intervene on behalf of the fish..."

Discworld religion was complex. It was no fun running a fishmongers if Dagon, the Fish God, were liable to turn up to express concern about what humans were doing to His people with nets and gutting knives. Libertina, Lady of the Sea, usually kept him placated, though. But you never knew. His name was never spoken by those in fishing or the seafood trade, in much the same way that gamblers studiously avoided invoking the Lady.

Johanna patted her arm, kindly.

"We hev the same problems ebout the God of Evolution." she said, sympathetically. "The lest Creationist who came to the Zoo caught a lightning bolt. The smell of singed hair _lingers_!"**(9)**

Johanna, if she believed in any Gods at all, as opposed to merely accepting that they existed, was a follower of the God of Evolution. He visited the Zoo now and again. She had thought it prudent to issue him a lifetime's free pass and to inform the Gate that Gods get in for free. He sometimes manifested in the Beetle House and Entomology, observing the creatures which to him were the pinnacle of Creation and sometimes shyly asking Johanna about the intricacies of sexual reproduction. Johanna had sighed resignedly and discussed chromosomes and zygote exchange with her God. It was all part of a day's work for the jobbing zoologist on the Discworld.

"Do you want to, you know, round up a Golem or two to move them?" Ponder prompted her. "Perhaps the University's Zoo Station might be the obvious place? With magic involved, and magic we don't know about yet, it might be prudent. The Arch-Chancellor might raise demarcation issues if you were to move them to Assassins' Guild premises, and with respect, you're not exactly equipped to deal with magic in the same way we are."

Johanna considered this. It made sense. She didn't want to plant a magical time-bomb in the Guild's Animal Management Unit. Lord Downey was generally easy-going and allowed his Assassins a lot of local autonomy in their respective areas of expertise, but she had also heard about being called to the Master's office for a sherry and a _compulsory_ almond slice. Her friend Joan Sanderson-Reeves, the Guild school's Domestic Science teacher and one who believed the best way to a client's heart was through his dinner plate, made the almond slices for the Guild Master. One wouldn't exactly _kill _her, but she'd become intimately acquainted with the back of the privvy door for a day or two. And the specimens would be at the Zoo, albeit in the University's School of Para, Crypto, Pseudo and Trans-Dimensional Zoology research department.

"OK." she said. "Good plen, Ponder. I'll clecks the Zoo for a couple of golems end a covered tenk on a hendcert. You might want to add a couple of lines to edvise Bruce?"

Doctor Bruce Berwin, a Fourecksian wizard, ran the University's detached premises at the Zoo. He had a lifetime's experience of dealing with both mundane and magical animal species. Although some of his handling methods... she sighed. Fourecksians shared a lot of characteristics with Rimwards Howondalandians. Both were citizens of former Ankh-Morporkian colonies who had been born and raised in inhospitable places with lots of interesting wildlife. And who had inculcated a bloody-minded "sod-you" attitude of independence and self-reliance. She just wished he didn't make such an un-necessary show of dealing with crocodiles and alligators. **(10)**

* * *

**(1)** Because taxi radio control can randomly break into even the best-shielded of communication devices. It's a multiversal law of nature.

**(2) **This is a piece of black humour used by British Army bomb disposal officers concerning the protective clothing they wear when dealing with IED's. Northern Ireland and later Afghanistan has given them lots of practical experience.

**(3) **Squishi is like sushi, only with more tentacles sticking out from the seaweed and rice roll. And don't ask about the seaweed they use.

**(4) **Far enough out to be safely away from the effluvium and detritus washed out by the Ankh. Nobody wanted to fish there, although the prawns and lobsters and shellfish were amazing. The problem was what they _ate_, as any good kosher fishmonger will tell you. But not so far out that Klatchian pirates could see them. The Dogged Bank was a place for _men_.

**(5) **All universities with an aquatic interest develop a working relationship with fishermen. If something interesting comes up in a net, especially one that could be a little bit unprofitable and disruptive, the fishing boats know who will call and collect. University collections have been founded on this informal relationship. It was how academia discovered that the coaelecanth was still alive and thriving quite a few million years after its presumed extinct-by date. **(6)**

**(6) **Of course, on the Discworld, this sort of thing is held to be down to irresponsible dumping of magical waste, or else the activities of History Monks.

**(7) **Verity Pushpram cleaned up both ways on oysters and shellfish. Humans valued oysters, whelks and mussels for the tasty seafood content. Trolls valued them for the nutritious content of the yummy outer shells once the yucky organic goo inside had been removed. Fishmongers and seafood restaurants happily served both consumer groups with a desired delicacy.

**(8) **There had been an incident with some very agitated and truculent squid that a trawler had swept up. A bedraggled and ink-soaked crew had brought them in, unloaded them into a holding tank, and Johanna had been called, prudently bringing an escort of Golem zookeepers. She had then, considering the catch, had a moment of intuition, of the sort that distinguishes an excellent zoologist from a merely good one. Looking into the disconcertingly intelligent eyes of the squid, and dodging a spray of black ink, she had ordered pens and paper to be provided. These had been snatched from her hands and an unsteady hand, or rather tentacle, had scribbled in its own ink _MadaM. WE reaLly Mst pRoTest at this Inkonveenience! _And thus, Discworld marine zoology had learnt of the existence of the Literate Squid, a species that had a certain intelligence, certainly did not lack ink, and needed only pen and waterproof paper to express itself. As far as Johanna was concerned, this beat dolphins hands-down and did not come from a creature that _grinned _all the time. Squid tend to have a hangdog defeatist expression that suggests the worst has already happened. And they can't stand bloody dolphins either, bunch of superior mammalian bastards, giving themselves airs and graces just because they can feed milk to live-born young. Literate Squid are now contributing a significant body of literature for the delight and edification of a certain sort of researcher, although most of it consists of complaints about dolphins and bloody killer whales, and don't get us started about calamari. It beats trying to interpret high-pitched dolphin squeaking any day of the week.

**(9) **Constable Visit of the Watch. Who had declaimed loudly about the wonders of Om's creation and how the pernicious and un-Omly doctrine of evolution was conclusively disproven by the majester of Om's eight-day creation that was in abundance all around in this Zoo, and would anyone like a pamphlet? He had said these fateful words in the Beetle House, a place containing The Evolution God's eyes, ears and feelers on Disc. Retribution had been swift. Fortunately for Visit, the God of Evolution is liberally-minded, and intends his lightning bolts to be corrective rather than terminal: all the pamphlets in Visit's hands had been burnt to a cinder, though, and he had to take a couple of days' sick leave.

**(10) **The Department's name changed frequently in accordance with the necessarily shifting nature of the subject matter, which was hard to pin down. Although a sign on the door emphasised _**We Don't Do Shoggoths, OK? **_


	2. Warm weather and

_**A sort of a Zoo Tale**_

_Returning to the Ankh-Morpork City Zoo, by a roundabout route_

_**The even more perplexing second chapter.**_

Johanna needed no directions as to where to find Doctor Berwin. At this time of day he was most likely to be down towards the river, where the Zoo capitalised on nearby running water to house its aquatic and amphibious species. She left her Assassins' School class to get on with its various assignments in observing and recording, and made an unhurried way through the Zoo clientele down towards the River, on the Turnwise side of the Zoo complex. A large crowd had gathered outside Djelibeybian River Crocodiles. These were the largest and meanest crocodile to be found anywhere on the Disc, a product of three thousand years of being sacred animals on a very good diet, and had been gifted to the Zoo by Pharoah Ptraci. **(1)** Her personal cartouche now ornamented the outside of the Crocodile Habitat, as did a small shrine to the crocodile god Offler. **(2)**

There was certainly nothing reverential in the way Doctor Bruce Berwin handled animals. A Fourecksian exchange wizard who had opted to stay in Ankh-Morpork, he had native animal handling skills that alternately thrilled and appalled Johanna. Other young wizards from Bugarup University were drawn to his orbit and were a useful adjunct to the Zoo's professional and volunteer workforce. Quite often the reptile houses rang and echoed with Fourecksian accents and the sort of robust language that made even Morporkian mothers cover their children's ears.

As Johanna pushed through an excited crowd, she heard

"_Strewth, mate, this bastard's a bloody big bastard!"_

She sighed and shook her head.

"_Just grab the bastard, y'bastard, and bloody well hold on tight!"_

The watching crowd ooh'd and ahh'd, enthralled by the sight.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, you will see I am lying full-length on top of the crocodile, and this is a big powerful bloke, a gnarly old fella, a typical Djelibeybi River bull who won't take any crap from anybody. My associate here is now slipping the old lasso over his snout, and that will save me having to manually clamp his jaws closed. And isn't he a _beauty_!"

Doctor Bruce Berwin, a Fourecksian wizard, ran the University's detached premises at the Zoo. He had a lifetime's experience of dealing with both mundane and magical animal species. Although some of his handling methods... she sighed. Fourecksians shared a lot of characteristics with Rimwards Howondalandians. Both were citizens of former Ankh-Morporkian colonies who had been born and raised in inhospitable places with lots of interesting wildlife. And who had inculcated a bloody-minded "sod-you" attitude of independence and self-reliance. She just wished he didn't make such an un-necessary show of dealing with crocodiles and alligators. **(10)**

"Ripper!" the doctor pronounced. "As you can see, ladies and gentlemen, he's a big drongo bastard of a Djel Delta Crocodile, but six of us have got him down and subdued and he's now docile!"

Thirty feet of reptilian power suddenly rippled and heaved, shaking off a couple of wizards, and a low growling rumble emanated from between its tied jaws. Somebody was going to _pay _for this...

"Or else not." Bruce Berwin admitted. The crowd ooh'd. They wanted to see what every Ankh-Morporkian crowd wanted to see, which was shrieking painful death and rending limb from limb. It was quite dissappointing that the crazy Fourecksian had got away unscathed.

"But anyway, I see the boss-lady's arrived! A great big hand for Doctor Johanna Smith-Rhodes, people! She can help us hold the bastard down while the veterinary gives him a health-check. Careful with that thermometer, Doc, these fellas have long memories and from his point of view, you're adding insult to injury!"

Doctor Jimmy Folsom, Ankh-Morpork's de facto all-animal vet, stepped reluctantly forward. He was most used to horses, and treated most quadrupeds as if they were equine. Within limits. Johanna sighed and let herself into the enclosure, helping do what was needful to keep the creature immobile. She could have done without this and knew that Essence of Crocodile was going to be hard to get out of her tunic. But there were several student Assassins watching – she conceded they had a legitimate right to be there, as they'd been assigned to Crocodiles – and one, a Fourecksian, had even got onto the croc-wrangling squad.

"Ripper, isn't it, miss?" the student wrangler called, cheerfully. She sighed, and took station to immobilise a section of tail. Meanwhile, Doughnut Jimmy measured, weighed, took temperatures (the crocodile made a very affronted bellow of rage) and assessed.

"She'll be right, Doc?" Berwin inquired. "You've just got the teeth to go. I've got the jaws, you can see most of them from the outside, look!"

Doughnut Jimmy steeled himself, and scaled a fang just for the look of the thing. He pronounced himself satisfied, and said he had to move on to Lemurs, Marmosets, and Aye-Ayes.

Berwin shook his head.

"Rather you than me, Doc." he said. "Those are nasty little bastards and strewth, they can deliver a nasty bite if you're not careful!"

He patted the crocodile affectionately on the head. It growled. Jimmy Folsom left, after selecting his smallest possible thermometer.

Johanna said "Bruce, we've got some interesting new errivals I need you to take a look at. It needs a wizard's opinion, and we need to make a plen."

"Be right with you in two shakes of a dingo's donger, Johanna! Just got to let this fella back into the water. This is where it gets interesting, when we take the rope off the jaw. Might need your help here!"

"Whet beats me." Johanna said, "is thet we employ _golems _for this sort of thing. But you people insist on doing this by hend!"

Berwin grinned. "Wouldn't be any fun then, boss-lady! Now on the count of three, I want all deadweight bodies back over that flaming wall. We point this bastard at the chicken carcasses so he can have a snack. Then I pull on the slip-knot and we run like mad bastards. OK?"

Wizards who chose to work at the Zoo were generally the sort of younger, slimmer, more athletic types. Unseen University zoology taught the necessity of closely observing animal behaviour patterns, and the advisability of being young and fit enough to know when to run like Hell. Mustrum Ridcully himself had championed the move of the University's animal-handling faculties to the Zoo site, as a matter of some urgency when he'd discovered the University had a resident population of tigers, kept in the sort of magically-powered cage enclosures that Ponder Stibbons had noted would present management problems if for any reason the magic failed. A previous Arch-Chancellor had instituted a tiger collection in the old dribbly-candle age, when glands and secretions from tigers were thought most efficacious in certain magics, and having them on hand for the despised Thaumatology Department to deal with had been thought more effective on cost and time grounds than continually having to send field expeditions to Ghat.

The University had also kept crocodiles and alligators, again in the days where a mandatory part of wizard Boffo had been the stuffed alligator in the consulting rooms. Now the old alligator pits were used by the kitchen to grow mushrooms, and Thaumatology had been banished to the Zoo site, along with the School of Magical Taxidermy. Johanna approved of this; having taxidermists on site meant that any interesting animal dying in the normal cause of things could be dissected and preserved, with surplus specimens sold on to museums, schools, and private collectors.

While Mustrum Ridcully had despaired of an institution hell-bent on keeping large interesting animals but which flatly forbade him to bring his hunting crossbow past the front gate, he took solace in pitching in with those young fellas who look after yer crocodiles and things. He was sometimes to be seen joining Bruce Berwin's crocodile-wranglers, splashing around in the crocodile tank after the desired specimen and bellowing that he never realised how much fun a Zoo could be, this exercise is keepin' me fit and young, dontcherknow!

Owing to the long-standing association of crocodiles and wizards, the University sponsored the large reptile enclosures. Johanna appreciated this, but realised it meant her powers to intervene regarding their management were curtailed. She knew she could only ever _suggest_ that the Zoo's golem keepers assisted in handling the crocodiles. Dealing with a Zoo where the various Trade Guilds (and some religions) each sponsored animals of interest took a lot of diplomacy.

In the calm quiet of the School of Crypto, Para, Neo and Shiftingly-Titled Zoology (UU), she introduced Berwin to the new arrivals, trucked in by golem from Verity Pushpram's fishery. She raised an eyebrow as an older wizard was led away, quietly whimpering, by gentle caring hands.

"There, there, old fellow. We've got some Dried Frog Pills in the first-aid box..."

"Poor old fella." Berwin remarked. "Prof Pennysmart does Extreme Horticulture, as you know. He's never been the same since that business with the jellyfish.**(3)** Show him things living in water and he goes all Bursar, poor bastard."

Pennysmart advised on the sort of flora that needed to be part of a specialised diet for _really picky_ vegetarian species. And speaking of possibly specialised eaters...

Berwin whistled as he looked into the oyster tank.

"And y'say old Stibbo reckons there's magic involved here, but he's not sure what sort?"

"Exectly so, Doctor Berwin." she said. "Es megicel species are the University's area of expertise, I would eppreciate it if you were to keep these creatures under guarded observation here. Just for a few weeks, so thet eny _issues erising_ cen be noted end epproprietly dealt with."

_Issues arising_ in the management of magical species could cover anything from random magical discharges to a manifestation of the Fish God Dagon. Johanna had a contingency plan for that: Dagon would be invited to look in at the Aquariums to witness the loving attention with which His people were being cared for, and if possible to get testimonials. The Zoo Diner would put fish off the menu and lock the fridges. The thorny issue of fish-eating species was to be hedged around, if possible. Although penguins were sacred to Patina, Goddess of Wisdom and Gods generally took care to respect each other's demarcation lines. Divine visits were not unknown at the Zoo. Johanna had once appreciated a discussion with the God of Evolution concerning beetles. The god had graciously accepted a cup of tea, made a useful comment concerning beetle management (Johanna was not proud. She liked to learn from visiting experts), and placed His divine blessing on Entomology.

He had also courteously inquired about the Teatime Prize, an ongoing Assassin competition for the best-thought-out theoretical plan to inhume a supernatural entity, any sentient mortal protected by magic or gods, or perhaps even one of the Gods themselves? "Just between you and me, Doctor Smith-Rhodes, a few people on Dunmanifestin get a bit _twitchy_ about this sort of thing."

Johanna had reassured the God by telling him that _at present_ the Teatime Prize was strictly only theoretical, as the Guild had absolutely no interest in disrupting the entire Disc, nor incurring any demarcation trouble with the Priests, by going for the _really_ big ones. She left the prospect open-ended; she was still a trained Assassin, and it paid to advertise.

She smiled at the thought her Guild could even worry the Gods, and turned her attention back to the matter at hand.

"I reckon," Berwin said, suddenly a professionally interested zoologist, "we need to keep these beauts at a couple of degrees above zero in an artificially darkened environment. Hook 'em up to a thaumic pump circulating a simulated but clean seawater and a regular tidal pattern, then add the right sort of nutrient mix, and she'll be right!"

"Thet is ecceptible." Johanna said. "Perts of the new subterranean Equarium are complete. We cen soon commence moving species in there prior to opening to the public. Ellow the species to settle into their new homes. You will be essigning student Wizards to observe end record?"

"I'll find a couple of students to sit by the tank." Berwin said. "There's always going to be a bloke who's got an essay to read up for and needs a quiet place to work. Get him to run an eye over your Quirmian supper in the tank, while he's there!"

Johanna smiled. Some species needed less watching than others, and large marine bivalves of the genus Ostreidae were not exactly mobile, aggressive or anything more than unavoidably territorial, in that once they settled to a place they could call home, they were fixed there. The only things to be wary of was that they were an unknown species, and that sort of bright blue was outside the parameters of what was normal for the genus. Which suggested something local or otherwise environmental; she suspected taken out of their bed and transplanted, their coloration would fade back to normal with time. But it would be interesting to visit the original beds in Quirm to seek to isolate the local factor; she reckoned it might be a useful training expedition for student Assassins, once the wizards had checked and reported for magic. She really didn't want pupil Assassins diving for oysters in the Quirm estuary and stirring up long-discarded magic. Parents would complain about any inadvertent damage.

She thanked Berwin and returned to the main Zoo, keeping an eye on her pupils' assignments and being visible to staff and visitors. She even got to look in on a few animals. The Purdeighsland Demon, a predatory marsupial with a terrible temper, appeared off its food and could only muster a feebly half-hearted snarl when she passed. It looked like the sort of woolly toy that girls of a certain age loved. She noted to ask its dedicated keeper **(4)** when she saw her next. She also noted in passing that the Amazing Acrobatic Meercats, a species inherited from the now defunct Palace Menagerie, were happily exercising to the pleasure of the public. They had manoevred the vaulting horse which they appeared to love out into their open space, and were perming acrobatic tricks on and over it. Johanna watched for a while, then shrugged and moved on. The meercats on watch at the fringes of the group appeared to relax and paid her no further attention.

She walked the length of the main concourse, until she finally came to the building site at its Turnwise end. A shallow ramp, flanked by large heaps of spoil and stacks of building materials, led down into the earth. A cheerful Dwarf was leading a pit pony up rails laid on the ramp. The pony was towing a currently empty flatbed truck.

"Where will I find Mr Thorsskyfell?" she inquired. The Dwarf smiled and invited her to descend into the workings, he'll be right down in the deep, miss.

She let herself down admiring the Dwarf builders' skill and expertise. They had assured her they could excavate under the Zoo site whilst causing little disruption and no unfortunate subsidence. Johanna had believed them: they were Dwarfs and knew about this sort of thing, and besides, they'd be tunnelling under a tiger enclosure from underneath. Nobody wants a surprised tiger dropping on top of them from forty feet, regardless of the fact a cat can usually land on all four paws. Or more pertinently, on top of a Dwarf with all four paws.

So far, the dig had gone without incident. The Dwarfs had shored up and supported the ground above as they had gone, and a network of pillars, girders, and supporting beams lined and supported a very broad tunnel. One of the Zoo's new animal acquisitions was already at home: a glass ceiling provided Home to colonies of _vurms_, the bioluminescent animal that provided sufficient light in many dwarf-mines. The whole point of the new downward extension was to provide homes to those species of animals and plants that lived in lower light. Planning suggested the vurms would be ample illumination. A thick glass ceiling would prevent them dropping onto people underneath, they could be fed from strategically located points on the surface, and a couple of gnomes or nickels could "herd" them and clean the glass when maintainence was called for. _Nickels_ were goblin-like creatures who lived as a sort of deep-down goblin in Dwarf mines. There were several clans of them: Nickels, Kobolds, the less common Osmiums, and the fleetingly elusive Hassiums. Barely a foot tall, Nickels were tolerated in Dwarf workings for jobs involving smaller size or finesse.

Where the tunnel was competed, Dwarf and human workers were co-operating on building the animal environments that would occupy most of the space here. The site bustled with activity, and Johanna moved happily along it to the further end, where artificial light illuminated a place where Dwarfs were still shoring, walling, and hoisting ceiling supports to make safe as they moved deeper down. The theory would be that the deeper you went, the darker it got, and more truly nocturnal or light-shunning species might be displayed in perpetual near-darkness. Dwarf guides would be on hand to escort human visitors and explain what they were looking at, and an elevator would return visitors slowly to the surface at the end.

Johanna chatted to the Dwarf in charge, Thorsskyfell Thorsshammaresson. She learnt that the Deep Sea and Eternal Night galleries were three or four weeks away from completion and would be there ahead of schedule. Approving of this, a stray thought about _meerkats_ crossed her mind and she frowned. She tried to visualise which enclosures were at surface-level, immediately and nearby to where she was standing. She beckoned a nearby Dwarf.

"Go to the surface end speak to eny of the keepers. Hev them bring several transit cages down here to where I am. Golem keepers, if you cen get them."

Right you are, miss." the dwarf said, touching his helmet.

Thorsskyfell Thorsshammaresson looked puzzled.

"Whåt is it thåt yøu are expecting, _fru_ Smith-Rhødes?" he asked, in a strong Hublandish accent.

"It may be something, it may be nothing." Johanna said. "But I have wetched end observed enimels all my life. I hev a suspicion. If everyone could be wetchful, but not stop working? Thenk you."

They waited several minutes, Johanna watching part of the earth wall and roof that had not, as yet, been encased in concrete cladding. A few specks of earth dropped from about fifteen feet up.

_Ah._

Thorsskyfell Thorsshammaresson gasped.

"Look out, lads! Could be a cave-in!" Dwarfs dropped tools, poised to run.

"It is not. Believe me." Johanna said.

She heard plodding golem feet in the distance. Johanna addressed the earth wall, seemingly talking to nobody in particular. She spoke in her native _Vondalaans._

"_Jy kan nou uitkom!" _she said to the wall. _"Almal van julle."_

The earth trembled and fell, and one by one, several very reluctant meerkats emerged. One was carrying a crude spade and others had been filling bags with earth.

Johanna was not angry. She made the universal "tut-tut" gesture and waggled her finger in reproach. The meerkats hung their heads.

"_Kry in die hokke, kollegas. Dankie." _she said, indicating the animal cages. From somewhere above, there was a meerkatian squeak of alarm, and the sound of earth being hastily shovelled back into the escape tunnel.

The dejected meerkats got into the cages.

Where Do You Wish Us To Take Them, Miss Smith-Rhodes? asked Keeper Shtetl.

"I think to one of this isolation cages in the non-public area, Mr Shtetl." she requested. "Deprive them of en audience for perheps a week, but otherwise be lenient. Full diet. End please keep them together. They are social enimels. Solitary confinement would be cruel."

"Yøu åre ålløwing them their spådes to keep, _fru_?" the Dwarf overseer asked, diffidently. She smiled.

"Of course. The Amazing Meerkats are intelligent, lively, creatures. They like nothing more than to plen escapes. I permit this. It keeps my zookeepers end security elert. We both enjoy pleying the game. My concern is thet they do not come out in the tiger enclosure. Or that they do not escape into the City. Many people there would view them only es meat end fur."

One or two of the dwarf labourers, who had been thinking _strange kind of rat, but what the heck, it's nearly lunchtime and we can clobber them with spades_ tried not to catch her eye.

"I will have rets sent down for your lunch." she said, looking at a suddenly sheepish Dwarf in a way that suggested she'd read his mind. "This was part of the contract, efter ell, end common rets are bred here as food for those species who eat them. Only the best!"

"Yeah, that's true!" an appreciative Dwarf said. Gourmet dinners on top of a good daily rate for working underground by vurmlight. This was the best site he'd ever worked on.

"They ünderstood yøu? They åre intelligent creåtures indeed!"

"We are all from Howondaland, Mr Thorsskyfell. When I instructed them to come out end get into the cages, there was no argument. We hev been here before and no doubt will be egain!"

She looked at the hole in the wall.

"End it may be wise to fill end cover this erea es a priority." she said. "The meerkats cen devise crude spades. But so far they hev not febricated tools for breaking through concrete."

Several weeks passed.

Doctor Berwin reported no unusual activity in the oyster tank, and had remarked the blue light was flaming well restful for poor bastards doing the red-eye shift, it'll be a shame to see them go.

Johanna authorised golems to move them to the Deep Sea and Eternal Night galleries and settled there, prior to its opening. The meerkats were returned from the cool environment of the confinement cages and returned to their colony. Johanna noticed twenty or thirty meerkats trying to form themselves into a humanoid pyramid that looked, from a distance, like the shape of a golem. As this amused visitors, especially when they tried to co-ordinate themselves to imitate the deliberate plodding step of a golem, she let it pass without comment.

The Deep Sea and Eternal Night Galleries were formally opened at midnight by Lord Vetinari, supported by Lady Margolotta of Überwald, on an informal state visit. Other dignatories such as Captain Angua of the City Watch and prominent members of the Undead community also attended. Johanna found herself explaining to Margalotta about the _hammerkop_ bird of Rimwards Howondaland, a nocturnal bird of prey that lived on blood drawn from sleeping creatures, including humans.**(5)**

"Most impressive!" Lady Margolotta agreed, bending forward to regard the birds, who fearlessly stared back at her with little beady eyes. "_**Ex Howondalandia semper aliquid nova**_,**(6) ** and so on. And you say this is the form local vampires take?"

"_Ja,_ my lady. Natives call them _impundulo, _who come et night to drink their blood, often during thunderstorms."

Johanna had once, when much younger, inhumed a Zulu chief in his own kraal during a thunderstorm, reasoning that native fears would ensure she could be miles away before they realised, and pursuit could be organised.

Margolotta gave her an amused searching look. She realised her mind and memories were being read.

"And something a very good Assassin might take advantage of, no doubt. And are you certain this is _only _a bird?"

Margolotta – and the silent Vetinari – looked at her, searchingly.

"Efter thet business with the Howondalandian were-leopards, my lady, I assure you we take very great care of eny specimens known or suspected to be were-human forms." She recalled the were-leopards. They had caused _trouble._ **(7)**

"Can we be sure of that?" Vetinari asked, pointedly.

Margolotta smiled coolly at him.

"Havelock, there is nothing here but bird-intelligence." she assured him. "And don't you think I of all people should _know_?"

"End we elso hev enother exciting bird here." Johanna said. "May I show you the Hooded Mockingbird? It is nocturnal too, end lethal. Its diet is blood, but it takes it from prey species smaller than it is."

Margalotta enthused again over the vampire bats from Paraquat and the deep Tezuman jungles. These were kept in a simulated deep jungle habitat, kept tropically warm by technomancy provided by the University.

They passed on to the deep-sea aquarium. Deep Sea Bloatfish were kept here in sealed pressurised tanks. Only golems were allowed to handle them and tend the tanks, and any golem contaminated by bloatfish secretions had to undergo mandatory stream-cleaning afterwards to decontaminate him. Not even Bruce Berwin was inclined to wrestle one.

Vetinari was silently drawn to a tank that generated its own electric-blue light. He stood in silent contemplation for a while. Johanna frowned. If Vetinari took interest in a species of zoo animal, it could go in any direction. And this was a "species unknown", given the provisional name of _Oreida Garumasusanna_ after the fishing trawler that had dredged them up. If Vetinari deemed them a danger to the City...

She judged her moment, and went to stand beside him.

"These oysters are new to science, my Lord." she said, quietly. "They were quarantined end tested, end judged safe for public viewing. Normally shellfish are not of great interest, but bioluminescent oysters should ettrect end enthral."

"_Saucy Sue's Oysters."_ Vetinari translated.

"Efter the ship thet collected them, sir." she said. Vetinari did not reply.

After another minute of silent contemplation, he remarked

"There is some fine statuary in the library of Unseen University, Doctor Smith-Rhodes."

Johanna blinked. This was apropos of nothing, even for Vetinari. Usually when he made a sideways gnomic comment like this, he was expecting you to work something out, as if it were an abstract crossword clue.

"Perhaps Professor Stibbons and the Librarian could show it to you someday? No great rush."

He looked up.

"One could almost speculate that _vurms_ have a collective intelligence." he remarked, pleasantly. "The ever-shifting patterns of light and darkness they create may well be a method of communicating. What research do you know of into communication with vermiform intelligences?"

And so the night opening proceeded. Vetinari made no further reference to the blue oysters.

But as the Nocturnal and Deep Sea Galleries were visited by members of the public, a new and even stranger development happened. Brown-robed and cowled monks began visiting the Zoo in groups. Being only human, they made their fifty pence entry tickets last. But the congregated around one particular marine animal... Johanna, who had been too busy to inquire about statues in the Library, found herself taking an interest._ What the Hell was going on?_

* * *

**(1) W**ho, on ascending to the throne, had made it part of her manifesto to make the river crocodiles into an emphatically _un-_sacred animal by any means possible. Djelibeybi now had a thriving handbag and leatherworking industry whose exports had helped restore an economy made bankrupt by all those bloody pyramids. Capturing and exporting a few specimens for gifting to the Zoo, in a city that bought so many expensive luxury handbags, had been good for diplomatic relations as well as further reducing the river saurian population to manageable levels.

**(2) **It wasn't only Verity Pushpram who had to take Gods into account. The Zoo Trust also found it prudent to placate Gods who had a personal interest in their own sacred animals. It was safer that way.

**(3) **See _**The Science of Discworld III: Darwin's Watch, **_in which the hapless Pennysmart is dragooned into a field mission involving close inshore water and a tropical jellyfish, which we are told made his leg swell up to three times normal size and turn purple. Oddly enough, the same species totally ignored the Bursar when he went for a paddle amongst them, enthusing at the bright blue translucency. Johanna kept a few colonies at the AMU in an attempt to isolate the nature of the poison involved. She may not be an orthodox Assassin but this is the sort of thing the Guild _likes_.

**(4) **Who was currently on sick leave at the Lady Sybil. One of the Igors treating her was planning to petition Johanna about whether she needed at least a part-time Igor on the staff. The Zoo sounded professionally interesting to him.

**(5) **On our world, the Hammerkop is found in Southern Africa and many native tribes consider it a bird of ill-omen, the animal form adopted by local vampires. The other vampire bird referenced, the Hooded Mockingbird, lives in the Galapogos Islands, and its preferred prey are smaller birds and chicks.

**(7) **Ex_ Africa semper aliquid nova_: the words of a Roman philosopher, reflecting Rome only had a foothold on the continent's rim, and wondering what else there was out there. There's always something new out of Africa...

**(8 )**See my story _**Whys and Weres.**_


	3. Oyster Boys Are Swimming For Me

_**A sort of a Zoo Tale**_

_Returning to the Ankh-Morpork City Zoo, by a roundabout route_

_**The even weirder third chapter. In which things start to get explained.**_

_But as the Nocturnal and Deep Sea Galleries were visited by members of the public, a new and even stranger development happened. Brown-robed and cowled monks began visiting the Zoo in groups. Being only human, they made their fifty pence entry tickets last. But they congregated around one particular marine animal... Johanna, who had been too busy to inquire about statues in the Library, found herself taking an interest. **What the Hell was going on? **_

Johanna Smith-Rhodes led a busy and energetic life. She liked this. Juggling responsibilities between her teaching job at the Guild School, supervising the Animal Management Unit and directing the Zoo led to a full week. Sensible delegation to teaching assistants and junior staff members meant a lot of the workload was cut or capably dealt with by subordinates. While she liked to stay close to her base at Raven House and to manage her students, she now had resident Teaching Assistants who acted as Assistant Housemistresses and performed much of the routine administration. Sensibly managed, her time even allowed her to fit in one or two shifts each month, _pro bono_, as a Watch Special Constable. She was also on call as one who could cover emergency consular tasks for her uncle, Rimwards Howondaland's Ambassador to Ankh-Morpork. In practice, this overlapped her Watch duties: it wasn't unknown for compatriots to end up in the Watch cells and loudly, drunkenly, demand to see the Ambassador or somebody from the Embassy. Sam Vimes would smile and oblige them, if Johanna were available. They tended not to ask again.

But, she reflected, in a happy relaxed haze over a glass of wine, there would always be time for Ponder.

It had been a busy time for both of them and several weeks had elapsed since the successful opening of the Zoo's new galleries. Both had been dealing with student exams, setting exam papers, ensuring students were prepared for the day, and finally invigilating. This all took time and effort. Johanna had found herself bored and wanting to be somewhere else, pacing the exam hall and wishing some foolish student would break the monotony by seeking to cheat. Student Assassins had used some fairly ingenious means in the past and all teachers were ready to spot the signs, or at least, the signs of the tricks and dodges they knew about. But if anybody had been fiddling their exam, they were doing it so well that there was nothing showing. Apart from a couple of routine admonishments to "Face the front!" and "Both hands above the desk!" there had been little to do.

Ponder, who had to deal with even stranger means of cheating on exams(**1)**, had ruefully agreed that all this was a time-consuming drudge, but it needed to be done. They smiled, understanding each other.

"Did you get anyone?" he asked. She smiled and shook her head.

"Not personelly. I understend Joan caught one. A girl started crying in the exam hall. Bill Bradlifudd thought it was a case of her just heving exem nerves end let her go to the privy to wesh her face end compose herself. Joan hes long experience of teaching girls. She was suspicious, end followed, end discovered the girl hed concealed crib sheets in the privy. She wes just ecting the tears. Bill, who does not hev Joan's experience of teaching girls, fell for it, I'm sorry to say. The pupil wes hoping to take edventege that a male teacher cen only stend outside the door when a girl pupil is in the privy. But Joan is under no such restriction. I imegine thet pupil now hes real tears to cry, es Joan was... well, you know Joan. The pupil is to be expelled."

"Ouch." Ponder said. He'd met Joan Sanderson-Reeves, an old-time classroom monster. Being caught cheating in an exam by her would be a _lesson. _"Well, the theatres are always looking for good actresses now the old rule's been relaxed." **(3)**

"The girl _was _good at drama." Johanna said, reflectively. They looked out of the restaurant window onto the street outside. In the early evening, Ankh-Morpork's street theatre was playing out. Regular citizens merged with the more colourful denizens of the City; drab everyday civilian clothes were dotted with occasional clowns, jesters, thieves, Assassins, off-duty soldiers in red uniforms, Seamstresses looking for trade, a Golem plodding by on an errand, two dwarves in full armour and chain-mail. A Wizard and an Assassin having dinner together would not make the Top Ten of strange sights. And then there was...

Johanna frowned, looking at the oddest thing out there. A procession of five or six chanting monks, with other pedestrians giving them a wide berth as though there was something contagious to be caught. Perhaps there _was._...

Ponder watched them too.

"Johanna, aren't they those people who gather at the Zoo?" he asked. She nodded. Their monastic robes had something in common with Ponder's working robe: baggy and shapeless with a big cowled hood, covered in abstract embroidered symbols. The bodies were drab khaki-brown, but the sleeves and hoods were in a bright primary blue. What was visible of their faces suggested ritual tattoos or face-painting. She noted one hopeful at the back, possibly a novice, had crudely painted a hooded coat in exactly the wrong shade of blue where it was needed, and the occult symbols had been equally crudely painted on; some of them appeared to be backwards, although it was hard to tell. The other monks were carefully projecting a "He's new here" vibe, or else pretending not to notice.

Johanna recalled her patrols as a Watch special.

"I'm certain thet's Fartmeister Carter et the beck." she said, observing the large ungainly figure who was desperately trying to fit in, and failing. She took note during her Watch patrols and while not expert, was building an internal file of the sort of people the Watch paid attention to. It was all valuable knowledge.

"Lives in Dimwell. Desperately wents to fit in somewhere, but he's never really meneged it, poor fellow. Petty thief, too good-natured to be a street thug, not too clever, could do with eating less sterch, needs to be introduced to the idea of bathing more often, end he hesn't read es far es "l" in the dictionary, or he would know whet a laundry is. End more importantly, whet it _does_. I think I will telk to him when I em next with the Wetch. Not _now_, Ponder. These people know I em with the Zoo end they seem fixated with it, for whet reason I do not know."

The procession of monks trailed off, generally of small stature, the large lumbering one at the back looking even more out of place. Ponder shook his head. A snatch of chant reached them.

_I am becalmed, lost to nothing...  
Warm weather and a holocaust...  
Abandoned me and put to sleep...  
Tears of the God flow as I bleed …._

Ponder shook his head.

"Another cheerful religion, I see."

She smiled.

"End the Fartmeister hes a new hobby this week. Heppily, not my problem tonight. Elthough if they put off people from visiting the Zoo, they might become one!"

A memory struck her. Guiltily, she remembered Vetinari's words, some weeks earlier. He'd said "no great rush", hadn't he... she turned to Ponder.

"Lord Vetinari said something odd to me, Ponder. He said I should esk you ebout stetues in the University library. There must hev been a reason for thet. He does nothing without a reason."

Ponder asked about the context. She related the night of the opening, about Vetinari being fixated with the oysters donated by Verity Pushpram. Then she realised that was exactly the place where the strangely-cowled monks congregated and chanted. As if they were _worshipping..._

Ponder nodded, gravely.

"I think he wants us to work something out for ourselves, Johanna. There's some sort of link in a statue in the Library that will tell us more about those blue oysters. And about this new cult that worships them."

"You said you thought they were things of megic." Johanna said, thoughtfully. "Ponder, is it worthwhile for us to go to the library efter we finish here? This mystery intrigues me."

"And Vetinari's going to expect us to act on his advice." Ponder said. _"Especially_ if he said there's no great rush!"

Johanna felt mellow and a little tired.

"Coffee first, Ponder." she requested. "Then the library."

* * *

The Library at Unseen University was still open for business at eight in the evening. The lighting source was intangible, probably a by-product of so many magical books confined to the same place, but it offered ample illumination, in a subdued sort of way. Wizards tended to the nocturnal, and students in particular tended to do their best work – well, their _necessary_ work – during the night hours. Ponder and Johanna moved unregarded through the building, noting the statuary as they passed; largely busts and whole studies of past Arch-Chancellors and notable Wizards of the past, who all had the usual vaguely constipated look.

Ponder shook his head.

"All we know is that there's a statue here with a link to the oysters." he said. "But no clue as to which one."

He made another note on his pad, ticking off a statue.

"Arch-Chancellor Torpitude. I'll have to look them up in the histories and the lore to check out what achievements they had. Any Lore or related stories. Any great created magics. That's twenty-three so far. It'll take time."

Johanna acknowledged him. She looked up. Something was slightly out of place here.

"Ponder, those statues up in the Dome. They're of women?"

He looked up.

"Oh, yes, the Two To The Power Three Graces." he said. "Caravati originals. Worth hundreds of thousands, so that's why they were winched up there. Makes it difficult for the Thieves' Guild."

"Cen we get closer to them? In this light they're harder to see."

"I believe there's an access stairway to the lower dome." Ponder said, cautiously. "You can get at least as far as the Shouting Gallery. The acoustics there are _unique_. Apparently. Umm."

"Lead the wey." she said, extending her arm to be taken. Ponder took it.

Ponder located a discreet door hidden in an alcove near to the Librarian's nest. The Librarian was not there; Ponder suspected he was out re-shelving. He found a bunch of keys in the desk drawer and left a note to say he'd borrowed them.

"There are three galleries at various levels." he explained. "There's the Shouting Gallery, where the Graces are. Above that you have the Screaming Gallery, and the highest of all is the Laryngitis Gallery. Named after Arch-chancellor Laryngitis, apparently. Although I've never been higher than Screaming. Got a pen and paper on you? It makes things easier. You'll see why."

They ascended a spiral staircase, Ponder solemnly warning her not to get side-tracked.

"Nobody installed all these little doors." he said. Apparently they just, er, _appeared_, shortly after the Library was built. Apparently it's to do with L-space. Everywhere that stores lots of really old books gets them. Nobody knows _why_."

Johanna had been into second-hand book shops with illogical stairways and strangely-sized doors in odd places. She nodded assent, and let Ponder lead her. Assassins were taught to exercise caution in magical spaces and if possible to let a Wizard lead the way. She was happy for this to happen.

"And here we are."

He paused at a normally-sized doorway with nothing odd about it at all.

"Got the pen and notebook? Good, it all gets a little _strange_ after this."

He opened the door, and they passed onto the Shouting Gallery, which ran around the inside of the Great Dome, around a hundred feet above the Library floor. The only thing to prevent them from falling was a low and very inadequate handrail. It might, Johanna reflected, have been adequate for dwarfs or goblins. She opened her mouth to speak. Nothing happened.

Ponder took a deep breath. She could have sworn he was shouting. But his words came to her as a distant, faint, whisper. From three feet away.

"_This is why it's called the Shouting Gallery!" _he shouted. _"Something happens. To space and time and sound. They say. Shout as loud as you like. Somebody standing directly opposite. Only hears a whisper!"_

Johanna got the point. She wrote in her notebook.

Pndr. To sv our throats. The Graces?

He nodded. Staying carefully to the dome side, he walked around the Gallery to the nearest statue. The name "Diligencia" was carved into the base. It showed a woman with her hair bound back in a scarf, sleeves rolled up, broom in hand. She wore an apron, as if anticipating doing all the cooking once the cleaning was over.

Grc of hrd nd careful work. =DILIGENCE. He wrote.

Johanna nodded, studying the statue. No obvious clues. They moved on through Hope, Patience, and Silence. Still nothing obvious. And then...

"TUBSO?" Johanna wrote. She added another question mark for emphasis. Ponder winced.

"Bit embarasing. Nobody knows. Forgotten Grace."

The statue was different; the Grace it depicted was not long, lean and elegant, but a little shorter and plumper with a slipped laurel wreath and a disgruntled look. She was very much the unfavoured sister among the eight, the plump plain homely one. But no clues... a smug-looking Chastity passed by, her facial expression making Johanna's fist clench, then a rather muscly butch-looking Fortitude, and a slightly simpering Charity. And then...

"BISSONOMY?" Johanna wrote. Ponder answered.

"Another forgotten one, I'm afraid. Around here, may be inevitable. They think Chastity is going to be next to go."

Johanna studied the statue of Bissonomy. She frowned. This Grace was longer and thinner, and her face had an expression of vagueness and unfocusedness, as if the plot had temporarily been lost. In her left hand was a bunch of root vegetables which might have been carrots but might be parsnips, and in the other was some sort of kitchen crock that looked like a cross between a kettle and a saucepan. But nothing suggestive of aquatic bivalves.

"Thts all (9-1), Pndr" Johanna wrote. "But no clue?"

Ponder Stibbons shrugged, perplexedly. Then there was a hint of scrabbling noise behind them, on the very verge of hearing. Johanna sensed something climbing up over the low handrail and trained Assassin senses kicked in. She whirled round, heedless of the long fall to ground level, and flexed the muscles of her right arm in a certain way. A throwing knife dropped into her hand, hilt first. A stray thought crossed her mind about the sort of scrabbling not-quite-human things that might come out of the woodwork in a magical space like the Library. She trusted Ponder to have a spell ready, in that case.

"Oooooook?"

The faintest of whispers reached her. Then she saw the Librarian knuckling his way up over the handrail, very slowly and cautiously.

"-"... she began, lowering the knife. Then she remembered, and shouted as loudly as possible:

"Epologies, old man! But do not come up _behind _me like thet!"

Johanna had a certain m-word privilege with the Librarian. It helped that "orang-utan", in its original Ghatian dialect, meant something like "Old man of the jungle". Coming from her, he did not get angry about use of the other sort of m-word. Normally it was like using the other m-word, only in a different evolutionary direction; the librarian was usually emphatic in stressing that I Do Not Want To Be Like You, thank you very much. **(4)**

Reflecting that once you'd deployed a concealed throwing knife, it was bloody impossible to get it back into its sheath again without partially undressing, she sighed and tucked it in her belt. Everyone relaxed. The librarian knuckled towards her and made silent but strident "ook!" noises. A good lipreader would have been busy for a long time. Orangs have very expressive lips. Johanna focused on his emphatic nodding and pointing towards the Bissonomy statue. Something was happening, if only she could work out what. Then she realised the Librarian had climbed all that way up just to give her a _book_...

"_Ook, ook, OOOK!" _she lipread.

"Thenk you, old man!" she shouted, as loudly as she could. If the Librarian chose a book for you, you read it. There was always a good reason. The Librarian suddenly looked happy and appreciated. She looked at the title:

_**Chaffinch's Ancient and Classical Mythology.**_

It would be something to read later. For now, she pointed downwards and raised both eyebrows; Ponder, who wasn't at home at heights, nodded, and the Librarian knuckled towards the entrance door, prepared to take the conventional route now his point had been made. As a competent edificeer, Johanna gave the Librarian ten out of ten for the climb up the inside of the library, which had incorporated a tricky curving overhang inside the dome. She idly wondered about hinting to Alice Band that she'd heard the University was considering putting up an edificeering team to compete in the Boggis-Downey Championship for Edificeering Excellence. It would be worth it, just to see the look on Alice's face when she worked out the implications.

None of the three registered an octarine glow forming around the statue of Bissonomy that Dopplered across the spectrum as far as blue, and then faded out. They were well down the stairs by then, and the only person to look up and see it was a student wizard, who put it down as One Of Those Things, and shrugged it off.

* * *

"_ATTEN...HUT!" _roared Sergeant Detritus. The gossip, conversation and background chatter of eighty Watch members stopped suddenly. This was Evening Prayers, the duty muster before shift, the time when Watchmen learnt their fate for the night. It was called Evening Prayers because the prayer on every Watchman's lips was _Whoever gets into trouble or gets injured tonight, pray the gods it isn't me._ The big briefing room at Pseudopolis Yard was suddenly very quiet and very attentive as Commander Sam Vimes made his way to the front, smoking the inevitable cigar. He waited impassively at the front, scorning use of the dais, and stood silently until he had everyone's full attention.

"Good to see you all here." he said, breaking the silence. "Especially all the Specials who've mustered tonight for street experience. Nice to have you with us and I hope you get the right sort of eventful night. I'll get onto your patrol assignments in a minute. Every Special here tonight is going to be partnered up with a full-time Watchman so the experience gets spread evenly around. Look upon it as a learnig curve for all of you!"

Vimes grinned humourlessly. He continued.

"I've just come from the Palace. Lord Vetinari is as always appreciative of the work we do. But, as always, he's keen to bring one or two issues to our attention that our normal intelligence-gathering procedures may have overlooked and which have been brought to his attention by other agencies. In particular, the bloody Priests are worried about a new religion that seems to be emerging. Probably because any money involved is being diverted out of their collection plates, and they don't like competition. Now I've had the Particulars on it and they can't get a handle on these new people _either, _except that they're making converts and seem to be growing. So far we don't know a bloody thing, except that they parade through the streets dressed in blue robes and chanting about bloody oysters coming for them. Which makes as much sense as any damn religion does.

"Now I do not like this. You all know what people in this town are like for fads and crazes. Anyone remember the Red Star and those bloody loonies going around with red stars painted on their faces? No? Before most of your times, I reckon. Caused a lot of bother and disruption. I just about remember it. Vetinari certainly does. And another bunch of loonies going around painting their faces, chanting impenetrable slogans, and making converts – that makes me itch. And when I get itchy, everyone scratches."

Vimes scowled.

"So you will be looking out for these people. Do not arrest them unless they're a real public nuisance. You know what the bloody _**Times**_ is like about civil liberties. Just follow, observe. Get names, faces, dates, times, anything you can. Right now any leads would be helpful. Don't suppose anyone knows anything? Anyone?"

Johanna stood up. Vimes nodded at her.

"Detective-Constable Smith-Rhodes?" he invited her. Vimes himself had recruited her as a Special. Although he'd assigned her to the Cable Street Particulars, Johanna liked getting out on street patrols. Vimes did not object to this.

She took a deep breath, and explained what she'd seen about their congregating at the Zoo around the shellfish exhibits, particularly the new Oysters.

"So Verity dredged these up about twelve weeks ago." Vimes said, thoughtfully. "They were so strange she turned them over to you. And shortly after they go on show, these bloody monks start appearing. To my mind, that's a connection. Pessimal, take a note, will you? Get undercover people in at the Zoo. If that's OK with you, Johanna? Thanks. And you've positively ID'd one of these maniacs as being Fartmeister Carter with a new religion?"

Vimes grinned a mirthless grin.

"I think we know what to do here, people. Get Carter."

* * *

Johanna found herself out on street patrol with Constable Visit. She suspected it was as a test for both of them. She didn't mind this; Visit was a capable copper, despite his quirks, and besides, Vimes's parting admonition rang in their ears.

_You're both on my time tonight. So get on, play nicely, and do try to refrain from any arguments about Creationism versus Evolution. The debate between Religion and Science can wait for your teabreak, OK? _

"And on the eighth day, Om looked upon his work and saw it was good..." Visit murmured to himself.

"Cen it, Visit." Johanna said, but she didn't stop watching the street. They were patrolling an area nicknamed "Little Howondaland", two or three streets largely populated by immigrants from the continent. She was aware of being silently watched by black faces, and a general sense of tension caused – she hoped – only by the presence of a Watch patrol. Many of the people here could technically be counted as illegal immigrants, although Ankh-Morpork tended to accept anybody regardless of race, species or nationality. Deportations did happen, as a cheaper alternative to the Tanty for habitual criminals. And not everybody here was law-abiding. She resolved to let the brown-skinned Visit do any talking. The moment she opened her mouth she would self-identify as a White Howondalandian, and that could cause complications. Her people were generally not loved by their neighbours.

Johanna was feeling like a Dwarf on Quarry Lane. Or a Troll on Cable Street. But then Vimes absolutely insisted _every_ Officer went _everywhere_ and there were no such things as no-go areas. And that they policed fairly when they got there. She suspected this had been done deliberately as an ongoing test. And then the screaming and shouting started.

* * *

**(1) **Cheating in a student wizard exam might involve somebody with scrying or far-seeing abilities papering the inside of their room with torn-out pages from text books** (2) **and then going into trance in the middle of the exam hall, popping back to take a look after reading the question, then "returning" to write the answer. Invigilators were primed to recognise the signs of trance and could deliver a gentle nudge or a shake of the shoulder, to disrupt any astral travel that was going on. More crucially, the Librarian had been asked to tour halls of residence with a Bledlow or two with master keys, and check the rooms of students doing exams. One student, confidently astral projecting out of the exam hall, had been seen to slump in his seat and moan "Oh, great Om on a crutch!". He had projected back to his room, confident it would not be noticed and all the invigilators would see would be a student paused deep in concentration. Instead of the relevant pages from Oddfellow's _Rough Guide To The Dungeon Dimensions_ torn out and thumbtacked to the wall, he had seen an obviously enraged orang-utan lamenting the destruction done to innocent books, while a Bledlow meticulously wrote his name on a clipboard. His future did not need a scryer for him to realise it involved a failed exam, charges for damage to books, possible expulsion, and a traumatic encounter with an annoyed Librarian. Ponder Stibbons had contemplated installing "soul traps" to imprison the essence of any student astrally projecting out of the exam hall. But these were expensive and thaumatalogically tricky and the spells took time and precision. Getting the Librarian on the case and ensuring this became widely known would have the same deterrent effect for a far smaller outlay.

**(2) **Because you can't open a book or turn pages whilst astral travelling.

**(3) **In former days, the Guild of Actors had been forbidden to recruit girls, leading to female roles being played by dragged-up men of a certain inclination. The Patrician had relaxed this old law. Serious objections had been raised, some by religious leaders and moral watchdog groups, others (more loudly) from the male actors who specialised in drag roles who didn't see why all those lovely clothes, wigs and slap should be wasted on mere _females_.

**(4) **And anyway, he already knew the secret of man's red fire. It was handy to keep warm by and cooking things on it was a definite improvement to eating them raw. But keep it away from my bloody rain forest, OK?

_**References:**_

_**LP's: Fire of Unknown Origin (the Blue Öyster Cult) (cover)**_

_**Secret Treaties, Imaginos – for song SubHuman / Blue Öyster Cult**_

_**Music Video: Take Me Away**_


	4. Strange shapes light up the night

_**A sort of a Zoo Tale**_

_Returning to the Ankh-Morpork City Zoo, by a roundabout route_

_**The even weirder fourth chapter. In which things start to get explained.**_

Student wizard Marcus Porringer awoke with a guilty start. He had been assigned by Doctor Berwin to keep station on the tank full of strange glowing oysters. Doc Bruce had cheerfully said it was an ideal place to catch up on his revision for his first year exams, away from the temptations of beer and women and the fleshpots of the City. All he had to do was to observe a tankful of bloody boring shellfish and fill in an hourly report on what they were, or more pertinently, were _not_, doing. Easier than pissing in a billabong, Doc Bruce had said. And if anything goes wrong, which I doubt, yell for a golem. There are regular patrols round the Zoo during the night. Golems are the least of it. Assassins do security patrols here too and you never see those bastards until they want you to see them, by which time it's usually too late, but don't worry, they'll know you're legit.

A chair and desk had been installed, and Marcus had wrapped himself in a cloak and dutifully tried to bone up on his Woddesley. At intervals he scribbled a report log:

_12:30am. Oyssters still glowing blue. Large one in middle of Grouppe occasionally opens shell slightly and gloops. Bubbles observed. Electric-blue light remainnes Constant, handy to read and write by. _

_1:30am. Stylle glowing blue. Om, this is gettinge boring. _

The semi-dark and blue light had begun to have a soporific effect on Marcus. His eyes had drooped. A Golem on night security patrol had kindly fetched him a cup of coffee. Marcus appreciated this. But...

He jerked into awareness. How long had he been asleep? With a red-faced sense of guilt, he checked the imp in his pocket-watch.

"Three-thirty, guv'nor."

He thanked the imp and quickly scribbled a brief retrospective report for two-thirty, adding one for three-thirty. It did not take long. Inexorably, he found himself nodding off again. His eyes flickered open and he saw...

* * *

Meanwhile, Constable Visit and Detective-Constable (Special) Smith-Rhodes were in one of those situations that any Watchman dreads. Howondalandian arguments tend to get very loud and very animated. Especially when members of at least three tribal clans and national groupings are involved. Add some of the few remaining white natives living in the street who had come out to protest about the bloody noise, and things were getting critical.

"Visit, do we need ess... assistance?" Johanna asked, trying to compensate for her Rimwards Howondalandian accent.

"The noise should draw other Watch patrols." Visit assured her. "The thing to do, miss, is to find somebody who isn't getting involved, somebody who looks like they're keeping their head, and ask them. Find out what the fight's about. Then you talk to people, politely but firmly. Just show them the uniform. That helps." He paused. "_Sometimes_."

"You had better do the talking." Johanna said. "I'm at a dised... dis_**a**_dvantage here."

Visit frowned, noting she was talking in a different way, trying to suppress her native accent. It was still obvious she wasn't local, though.

"Look, man. Helf the people here are bleddy Zulus!" she said, spelling it out. "En..._And _most of the rest are Matabele. People of my nationality are not popular people in those countries. How is it going to look if I step in end tell them to stop fighting, to disperse and go home? It is going to sound like the baas-lady laying down the law to the ka... the _natives_!"

Visit nodded, gloomily, seeing her point.

"And I tell you, Visit. The Matabele and the Zulu do not like each other very much. The Xhosa detest both. And that bloody idiot over there is waving a knobkerrie at the other idiot with the assegai, which thenk... _thank_fully... looks like a legacy weapon he has no idea how to use!"

"Oi, aren't you bloody Watch going to sort this _out_?" an affronted Ankh-Morporkian voice said. It belonged to a man in his thirties, who was wearing nightshirt and slippers. "Bleedin' Howondalandians, sleeping thirty to a bed, stinking the place out with their foreign cooking, noise at all hours, beatin' the bloody jungle drums. Old Mrs Jackson's cat went missin' last month! And we all know where it ended up, don't we."

"In their cooking pot!" a female voice added, darkly. "They call it _bushmeat,_ don't they! I call it a disgrace! This used to be a good neighbourhood until all the nig-nogs started movin' in, forcin' out decent white people!"

"And there is your _fourth_ problem." Johanna said, sighing. "The good old Ankh-Morporkian attitude of unjudgmental welcome to immigrents."

Visit had gone slightly pale. A few yards away, the combatants were squaring up to fight, spear and battle-club circling slowly. At least everybody else was watching and all other lesser arguments had ceased...

"Hey, love, I recognise you now!" the Ankh-Morporkian woman said, loudly. "You're that girl works up the Zoo, aren't you? We don't have problems with _your_ sort of Howondalandian! Good decent white people, talk a civilised lingo, know how to behave."

"Kith and kin." said her husband, approvingly. "Not like these buggers! Tell you what, love, got your whip on you? You usually carry one. They shift right quick when you people get your whips out!"

A few black faces on the fringes were now turning to look at Johanna. Unfriendly faces. One big Zulu-looking man nudged another.

"Oh, _kak!_" Johanna cursed. She took stock of her permitted Watch weapons. One truncheon. One short sword. One crossbow. And the moment she reached for any of these, there'd be trouble and no more room for negotiations. If she had to fight, somebody was going to get inhumed. And it wouldn't look good in the _**Times**_. Mr Vimes would go _bursar._

"Visit. How fest cen you run?" she asked, not bothering to try to conceal her accent any more.

"Nobody's caught me yet, miss." he replied. "Om grants me the speed of.."

"Good." said Johanna. She had decided discretion was going to be the better part of valour here. But as she poised to run, she spotted something on the other side of the fighting throng.

"We may not need to run. Look."

To her immense relief, two people, one of whom _loomed_, entered the fighting group, roughly pushing people aside. One of the thrown people tried to remonstrate with the non-loomer, but appeared to think better of it and fell back with what looked like a submissive cringe. The two newcomers moved in behind the duelling couple, each selecting a mark. And then the man with the assegai held high to stab found himself bodily lifted by the scruff of the neck, the spear dropping from his hand. A Watch truncheon cracked down on the knuckles of the man with the knobkerry, causing him to drop it and cry out. He turned with anger on his assailant, who pointed the night-stick at him and fired off a stream of commanding Zulu. Even though his assailant was smaller and slighter than he was, he backed off, holding his hands in a placatory way and stammering apologies.

"Isn't it _nice_ to see friends?" Johanna said, relaxing.

The two newly-arrived Watchmen nodded to each other. The larger one, the one who _loomed_, addressed the crowd in a Howondalandian language. The slighter and more sinuous one took over when she finished. Her voice was the voice of one who expects to be obeyed. It had harmonics.

Visit looked at Johanna.

Precious Jolson hes told them to cease the foolishness, calm down, end quietly return home." she said. "Meanwhile my associate, Special Constable N'Kweze, repeated the same command to the Zulus present. She is now reminding them that while here she is a lowly Special Constable, et home she is a Paramount Princess end speaks with the voice of her father, the Paramount King. Who would punish such a disturbance in the Royal Kraal by staking the offenders out over an ant-hill. Or else tying them to a tre,e end smearing their bodies with honey for the buffalo and goats to lick."

Visit looked puzzled.

"The tongue of a buffalo is _rough_, Visit. The sensation soon becomes excruciatingly painful. End in Howondaland we elso have creatures called honey-badgers. Who like honey. End meat. Preferably together."

She listened to the discussion, and translated: "End now that big man is saying to Ruth N'Kweze, I am Matabele, I own no allegiance to the Paramount King of the Zulus, why should I obey a mere girl? End es you see, Precious has just hit him, end she hes said I am admittedly a mere girl too, but Matabele, end I am _elso _in the Watch, any more silly questions? End they ere dispersing, but not before Ruth end Precious speak to some of them. End I believe it may be safe for us to step forward."

"Hi, Johanna!" Ruth N'Kweze greeted her. Ruth was also a graduate Assassin who Vimes had accepted as a Special.

"I tell you what, love" the white neighbour said, appreciatively. "_Some _of 'em ain't too bad, I suppose. You employ those sort of Watchmen to deal with the blacks, do you?"

"Wetchmen – end wetch_women _– ere employed to deal with _people_, Mr..?

"Booth. Edward Booth. And my good wife Joan. At your service, miss!"

"Then, Mr Booth, you may wish to return home end resume your interrupted night's sleep?" Johanna said, meaningfully. "Let us deal with this."

"Come on, Eddie." one of the black men said. "Fun's over. Let's get home."

"OK, chocolate drop." Edward Booth said, grumpily.

"Our neighbours." Joan Booth explained. "Not a bad couple."

"Eddie's always like this." the black neighbour explained. "He calls me a nig-nog, I call him a honky. So it goes. Right now _nobody wants to get arrested,_ so _home_, snowflake?"

"My bed is calling." Eddie Booth agreed. "We'll resume this discussion in the morning, Sambo." **(1)**

Johanna and Ruth shook their heads as the neighbours bickered their way back indoors.

"You get all kinds." said Ruth. She grinned. "I'm really glad you stayed out of that one, Johanna. It could have got _really_ ugly!"

"Ag, you know where getting overconfident leads to." Johanna said. "End in ell the time you've known me, have you _ever_ seen me being overconfident?"

"No..o..." Ruth said, crossing her fingers.

"It wouldn't have looked good." Precious Jolson said. "Trust me."

She turned and noticed a couple of late disputants sidling away, trying to look inconspicuous.

"Can I speak to you, _please_?" she called, beckoning them over. The man and the woman looked reluctant, but chose not to run from the Watch. They came over to Precious, who smiled amiably at them both. She spoke in Morporkian.

"I need to file a report later." she said. "It would save a lot of time if I knew what happened here to spark off a street fight. There's always a trigger for these things. Who was holding the crossbow? Mr Ibekwe?"

Mr and Mrs Ibekwe looked at each other. She nodded.

"Our son Ojibwe, a good boy, but headstrong. He was friends with the son of the Zulu family at number forty-three. Benjamin n'Dewayo. They have become involved with a religious cult. We dissaproved, but Ojibwe disobeyed us. He and Benjamin have run away together to this cult. The N'Dewayo parents had the nerve to blame our boy for leading Benjamin astray. But you are Matabele, what can you expect from those arrogant bloody Zulus, think they own Howondaland?"

"Excuse _me_..." Ruth said, glaring. Precious motioned her to silence.

"And that's how it began, is it?"

"Yes. We confronted the N'Dewayos. Others joined in. Sides formed. A debate began."

"And so Mr N'Dewayo went indoors to get his father's assegai, the one propped up in a corner of the front room which is there as a reminder of the old country. One which he has never touched or used in anger. And which house on this street is the _shebeen_?"

Johanna nodded appreciation. It would never have occurred to her to ask a question like that. She was certainly learning a lot about policing from street-experts.

Mr Ibekwe was reluctant to answer. Precious prodded him.

"An illegal bar, Mr Ibekwe. Serving spirits and beers distilled on the premises. Paying no City tax. No licence. I could follow the smell of fermenting grain as far as..." she sniffed. "Number Twenty-One, maybe."

Mr Ibekwe suddenly looked shifty and nervous.

"Everyone needs to relax after a hard day's work, miss..." he said.

"Oh, I agree, Mr Ibekwe. And as I might recommend to Mr Vimes if the subject ever comes up in conversation, some things are _cultural _and should therefore only be interfered with in extreme circumstances. And the shebeen is an old cultural tradition in both Matabele and Zulu communities. A meeting point, a place for relaxation, a community drop-in centre, you might say. But when people leave it and a fight begins shortly afterwards, causing a breach of the peace and Watch involvement, other Watch members lacking our mutual cultural background might just see a link and forcibly close the establishment. I'm sure you understand what I'm saying?"

Precious smiled amiably to allow the threat to sink in. It would be relayed up and down the street by morning.

"But we _could_ be busy trying to track down your missing sons. Now did Ojibwe leave any clue as to where he was going, what this cult is and where it meets?"

She turned to Ruth.

"Special Constable N'Kweze, perhaps you might knock on the door of Number Forty-Three and ask the N'Dewayo family a few questions? It'd look better coming from you." She paused, and added "Your Royal Highness."

* * *

Marcus Porringer could not remember falling asleep again, but he wondered if he was dreaming. The white-robed figures seemed to be both insubstantial and far too real at the same time. His wizard senses, although muted, were twanging and telling him this was something meta-real, not a thing of everyday conscious life but something that overlapped it. The women seemed to be having an argument.

_...so this is where she disappeared to!_

_...Bloody cheek. Putting her in a Zoo! _

That was the short fat one with the slipped laurel wreath.

_...oi, Diligence. Will you stop cleaning the glass on that blessed tank, put the cloth down, and listen! _

The one who reminded him of the terrifying Mrs Whitlow scowled over at the others. She resumed her industrious polishing.

_...Where did Fortitude bugger off to?_

_...She found some kitty-cats to play with upstairs, apparently. You know what she's like for cats._

_...Just so long as she doesn't try to take one home with her. Remember the last time? Took it to the time-share in Dunmanifestin. They can't exactly have a no-pets rule – look at Patina swanning round with that smelly bloody penguin, and all them half-animal Godsn – but it still caused strife._

_... You're telling me! Bast the Cat-Headed Goddess of Cats took a real interest, didn't she! _

_...So what do we do? We can't take her away, just like that. That'd be theft! For one thing, it's their tank and tell you what, the bloody Assassins own this place! _

_...Yeah. Teatime Prize and all that. You can't ignore them any more. What do you think, Silence?_

…

_...Oh, sorry. I was forgetting. _

_...Maybe we should convene? You know, ask for a truce, see if _**They**_ have any bright ideas?_

_...ye Gods, _**Them**_?_

_...Well, Pride's not so bad, and I do think one day she could get to see our point of view._

_...Shut up, Hope!_

… _I can't stand Lust. She really takes things to extremes._

_...And she thinks you creep her out, Chastity._

There was a pause.

_...We leave her here, for now? She's safe and being looked after. _

_...What if They..._

The group of spectral women suddenly looked at Porringer. Conversation ceased.

..._you're meant to be _**asleep**_, my lad. You aren't meant to be seeing this! _

As Marcus Porringer faded into sleep, he heard a low growl.

_...Look what I found! Isn't he adorable! _

_...For goodness' sake, Fortitude! Put that right back where you found it, this instant! _

_...Biss, love? We'll be back soon. That's a promise!_

* * *

Johanna waited discreetly in the street while Ruth spoke to the N'Dewayo parents. It was better that way, although she was sure she heard the words "What's the Boor woman here for? Thinks it's a tribal dispute in the township or something?" being spoken. An aura of menace still hung in the air, and she was keen to move on and get out of here. It felt, in a very real sense, like hostile territory where her presence had been noted and she was being allowed to remain, tolerated but not accepted – for now.

She was glad when Ruth N'Kweze came back with a handful of pamphlets and things that had been found at the Ibekwe house.

"Apparently they both left these behind." she said.

"Oh, the wiles and temptations of false religion... I may have a pamphlet..."

"Can it, Visit." said Precious.

"In the last days, there will be false prophets heralding the rise of the Anti-Om..."

"The Golden Dawn of the New Age! ! ! !" Johanna read. "Three exclemation marks, I note."

"They get up to six later on." Precious observed. "A true sign of a deranged mind."

"Do you long for a new Golden Age of the Discworld? An age where WRONGS are RIGHTED under the rule of a Goddess, _WHO IS RETURNING! _The SIGNS and PORTENTS of Her return are there to be seen1 But only those who have Eyes To See may see them! The Goddess has been asleep and lost to us for thousands of years.

"BUT SHE IS RETURNING! ! ! ! ! !

"Will you be among the CHOSEN?

"Or will you be cast out in the wilderness, where there is wailing and gnashing of teeth! Where no parsnips grow! ! Where the empty forlorn dead shell closes on no Pearl, a failed oyster, barren and bereft?

"For further information, write to Brother Perlman or Brother Bouchard, c/o Royal Mail Post Office Box number 1277.

"PO Box 1277, your express service to a HEAVEN ON EARTH when SHE returns! ! !"

Johanna shook her head.

"Multiple exclamation marks. End itelics. End rendom cepital letters. There is insenity here, thet's for sure. Well, at least we've got a lead now." she said. "It mentions oysters!"

"And Mr Ibekwe last saw his son in a blue and brown robe." Precious added. "Like those nuts you see in the street."

"Woe! Woe unto the unbeliever, he who leads Om's children astray!" cried Visit. Adding, as he was a copper, "We'd better get this back to Mr Vimes, quickly!"

* * *

Johanna was called to the Zoo early the next morning. Golems never slept and never ceased working. During the day, they were indestructible zookeepers. At night, they walked the Zoo grounds as security guards. But sometimes not even Golems can prevent things from happening.

"So we hed a lion escape, Mr Schmendrick?"

The golem Schmendrick nodded, ponderously. She exhaled. This was going to be a tough morning. No sleep, and a fairly full day ahead.

"I Am Afraid So, Miss Smith-Rhodes. However, It Has Been Recaptured And Returned. It Was Found Stalking Up And Down The Main Concourse Looking Confused. "

"Care to tell me how it heppened?"

"We Are Not Certain, Miss Smith-Rhodes. My Colleague Tukhus Was Patrolling Around The Large Cats. There Was A Commotion And The Lions Were Agitated. Tukhus Says He Saw A Woman In The Enclosure."

Johanna sighed. Another one. Some people, usually female, were fatally drawn to the big cats and wanted to get into the enclosures for some hands-on petting. It usually ended in tears. In the sense of "great big rips".

"Go on."

"He Went Into The Enclosure. The Woman Had Disappeared. He Alerted Others. We Checked For A Body. There Was None. We Did Not Think To Head-Count The Animals. There Was No Blood On The Grass. We Resumed Normal Duties. Before opening To The Public This Morning, We Found The Stray Lion. It Was Unhappy. Chimpanzees Were Taunting It And Flinging Matter At At. We Returned It To its Enclosure."

"Eny idea how it got out?"

"The Mystery Woman May Have Assisted. We Are Reviewing Security At The Lion Enclosure."

"Thenk you, Mr Schmendrick. Could Mr Tukhus give a description of the woman? It would be helpful."

Johanna sat back and reviewed the situation. It could have been worse. No corpse in the lion enclosure. One lion escaped, but recaptured, at a time when no members of the public were on the premises. But how had it escaped and who was the mystery woman? And the golem Tukhus was regarded by other golems with a sort of benevolent despair. Schmendrick had once confided in her that he was thought of as a little bit "flaky", as if his chem had a spelling mistake or was otherwise slightly flawed.

And there was the monastic new religion, at PO Box 1277. She wondered at the symbolism. Many religions believed certain numbers were holy or symbolic. What did it mean? She shrugged. Mr Vimes would have people at the Post Office by now, tracking the number to a real person. Then they'd know more. She rummaged for the book the librarian had given her. What was there in Chaffinch that would shed some light on all this?

She opened at random and started reading.

* * *

"What's all this about, Mr Vimes?"

Fartmeister Carter shuffled nervously in his seat and looked worried. Either he had some sort of brand-new skin disease never before seen, or else he'd tried to paint his face. Unfortunately he'd used the sort of cheap gloss paint people buy for their front doors. And applied it with a three-inch brush. The fact he'd then tried to overlay it with what were meant to be mystic occult symbols, before the first coat was properly dried, only added to his woes. He looked like a badly graffiti'd wall.

Vimes studied the makeshift monastic robe spread out on the table. He very carefully tried not to touch it. Even though all the windows in the interview room were open, there was a very definite smell of old starch aided by digestion. And of Carter. Sergeant Angua had excused herself and left.

"It isn't illegal to have a religion." Vimes said. "And you're not under arrest for wanting to join one, Carter."

"So I can go, mr Vimes?"

"You'll go when I say you can go!" Vimes told him, firmly. "No, there's religious freedom in this town. The Patrician insists there should be. So do the priests. But speaking of the Patrician, one thing he does _not_ like is a bunch of assorted Herberts dressing up in robes, meeting in secret, and chanting mysterious gnomic incantations."

Vimes leant closer, trying not to breathe in. He eyeballed Carter.

"Because the last time that happened, we ended up with an enormous sodding great dragon taking the city over. So. Again. Who is organising this. What is it for? What does your Religion hope to get out of this? _Who is behind it?_ No hurry. In your own time."

Carter gulped. He looked around. Sergeant Pessimal, pad poised to take notes. Constable Flint, looking stony and impassive. He slumped in his seat.

"I took an oath." he gulped. A solemn oath. They'll get me if I tell you!"

Vimes shook his head, sadly.

"Well, _I'll _get you if you _don't_!"

He leant forward.

"And I'm _nearer_! So what's it going to be?"

* * *

_And Strife and Discord entered into Dunmanifestin. (Even though she had been banished as a Troublemaker and her keys taken away, the Lady Errata knew full well there was a Service Entrance around the back, whence Ronnie Soak delivered the morning Ambrosia.)_

_And taking the form of a weasel so as to appear righteous in Her sight, she did whisper in the ear of the Lady Resonata, "Thou wilt never guess what that stuck-up cow Bissonomy said about thee."_

_Leaving the Lady of Mustelidae to guess at what had been said by the Lady Consort of the Great God Blind Io, Errata then caused mischief by rolling a golden potato under the feet of Epidity, lord of Tubers and Root Vegetables. Seeing it as his right, Epidity did take up the golden vegetable, only to see it turn in his hands into that substance to which fairy gold reverts at the first light of the Sun. Thus humiliated before the assembled Gods, Epidity waxed wroth and vowed vengeance. Looking up in shame and bespattered with fairy gold, he saw the Lady Bissonomy, consort of the Great God Blind Io, laughing harder than anyone. At this point a voice only he could hear spake from nearby, saying "O Lord Epidity, that gift of the Medium in which potatoes grow Bestte was granted thee by Bissonomy, Lady Patron of Parsnips. Long has she wished to usurp thee as Holder of the greatest and most popular root vegetable, and to take thy potato crown away from thee."_

_Know ye, o seeker after truth, that Errata, Our Lady of Strife, Discord, Misunderstanding and Only Getting Half Of The Story, was full sore at her expulsion from the realm of Dunmanifestin pursuant to that business with the Golden Apple and the Tsortean Falchion. It had been Lady Bissonomy, (who, formerly a Virtue, had been Elevated to Goddess stature by dint of the Lord Io choosing her as Consortte and not through the Usual Career Progression of amassing Believers), who had whispered unto the ear of Io that Errata shouldde be Banished from Dunmanifestin. She, and that Mate of Hers, Tubso, who had Seene that grafting away as a Virttue was a Mugge's Game, compared to getting into Dunmanifestin the Easy Way, as Lady-In-Waiting unto Bissonomy._

_Errata also knew thatte other Goddesses had had their Noses put Outte of Jointe by Bissonomy's elevation. Mutterings there were, of Thatte Bittche Hath Slept Her Way To The Toppe, and Evidently Hard Work Counts no Longer, and It's Notte What you Knowwe, It's Who You Knowwe. _

_Thus, in full awareness thatte Bissonomy was not Popular amongst the Goddesses, and knowing allso that both she and Tubso hadde let their Duties as Virtues slip to the point that mortals were forgetting what virtues they represented, Errata spread whisper and rumour among the Goddes, until one day, Harmony threw up her hands in Desppair, and fled sobbing even unto the privy. _

_Argument took place among the Goddes._

_Resonata cried in wrath: "Say that about me again, you Cow, and I swear to... to... Somebody, I will slap your stupid face in!"_

"_Oh yeah?" retorted Bissonomy. "You and whose Divine Legion?" _

_The Virtue Fortitude separated the pair by use of her mighty arms, ignoring the sniggers and snide comments about her Gender Preferences, and spake unto Tubso and Bissonomy that you've both had a good long holiday, but you know, be reasonable, there are six of us down here trying to do the job of eight, isn't it time you were both on the job again? _

_Then Epidity sought to Curry Favour with the Lady Resonata, by accusing Bissonomy of attempting to usurp him by taking Potatoes unto herself as well as Parsnippes. (For, on being elevated to Goddess, she hadde to be Goddess of **something**, purely for the Looke of the Thingge) This she hotly denied, pointing out that the burrowing Mole is enemy of both, and his Tunneles under the Earth cause all root vegetables to fail and rot. She then took the totem animal from the hands of the Mole God, Duncton, and lifted it aloft to prove her point, crying that all patron Gods of root vegetables must stand firm against the menace. _

_Unluckily for Bissonomy, the mole was Errata in animal guise, who bit her hand and then cunningly leapt for the Lady Resonata, making it look as if she had been thrown. _

"_Right! This just about bloody Soddynge well does it!" Epidity cried, waxing wroth. And at his words, the Lady Bissonomy was transformed in form into a shower of Oysteres, which flew up into the air and fell down upon the Game Board, disappearing into the mortal world. _

"_Oh, Shitte." Blind Io spake, doing the Thinnge with his Palm and his Forehead. Although Inne Hysse Mercy, he contrived to see that the oysters, formerly Our Lady Bissonomy, landed softly in a congenialle tidal estuary which Leggende Hath It is just off the Circle Sea, though no manne knows where. And they reside there to this day._

_Tubso was also Sent Forth the to resume her work as Virrtue, although by then such time had Elapsed in the mortal World that none could recall her, nor what she hadde been Virtue of. And Errata did Giggle, her work done. _

_And Epidity knelt at the Throne of Blind Io, yea, even at the lowest step, and begged forgiveness for what he had done in wrath to the Lady Bissonomy. For he was but a mere God of staple root vegetables, and Blind Io was mighty and puissant and Lord of the Gods._

_But Io smiled, and saith, get uppe, friend. I was honestly getting a bit bored and she was getting a bit clingy and possessive. You did me a favour there! _

_And he privilly thought, maybe one of the Vices next, they might be more fun. _

_And here endeth the tale of Bissonomy, a Virtue who fell from Grace. _

Johanna groaned and fought back an uncharacteristic impulse to beat her head on the desk. She put the copy of Chaffinch's Mythology down. Now she knew what was going on, except, perhaps, for the secret of what Bissonomy and Tubso had actually been Virtues _of._ _Great Offler, all I wanted to do was set up a Zoo and see it runs well,_ she thought. _And now I have a Fallen Virtue, or possibly a Goddess, in residence. Who do I talk to about this?_

* * *

"So. This mysterious Brother Bouchard, Call Me Albert, runs this little religious society." Vimes said, recapping. "With his mate Brother Sandford Perlman. You meet in a rented room above the Koom Valley Memorial Halls where the sound of chanting and praying is lost over the morris dancing going on downstairs. And these two holy idiots believe a long-lost Goddess has returned to Disc in the form of an oyster which is currently being exhibited at the Zoo."

"All the signs are there." said Fartmeister Carter, Brother Suck Bharma, as the Cult knew him. "The unearthly blue colour. The miraculous light. She just needs, wossname, Believers for her to grow. People who follow the Way."

Vimes' expression turned to one of distaste.

"And the Goddess evidently ordains a high-fibre diet."

"Oh, yes, sir! Parsnips are _compulsory_. And swede, turnip, carrot, celeriac... never had a problem with eating those, Mr Vimes!

"Yes." Vimes said, darkly. He tried not to sniff the air. "We _know_."

He turned to Carrot.

"Last time it was a bloody dragon." he said. "What sort of calamity could a massive bloody oyster cause if it suddenly made a bid to rule the City?"

Carrot frowned.

"Not sure what sort of edicts it would issue, sir. Or how it would communicate. Isn't there a Wizard at the University who does shellfish communication?"

Vimes considered.

"Yes, but he had a bad-breath problem. So they packed him off to Genua to do open-ended research. Get Ridcully to clacks him, would you?"

Carrot nodded.

"It occurs to me, sir, oysters normally live sixty or seventy feet underwater. If this is an oyster with god-like powers that these gentlemen are seeking to awaken, could it be it'll want the city to be flooded to its taste?"

Vimes stopped dead. "City-threatening emergency, Carrot?"

"Potentially so, sir." Carrot agreed.

They both turned to the hapless Carter.

"Brother Suck Bharma, aka Frank Nigel Carter, known as the Fartmeister. You are hereby charged with conspiracy to endanger the security and well-being of the Cities of Ankh and Morpork, along with persons, identity as yet unknown, collectively known as the Goddess Cult of the Blue Oyster. While you are in a cell here, for the wellbeing of EVERYONE, you will get hosed down in the showers whether you need it or not, we will issue a prison uniform and...er... _process _those clothes, and when Igor gives you the standard medical, I'll ask if he's got anything strong enough to get that bloody stuff off your face, as frankly, you look like a Zombie clown. Oh, and you're on a starch-free diet, as I've got the welfare of other prisoners to consider. Haul him off, Carrot. Then when you come back, we've got a raid to prepare."

* * *

**(1) **I know. I've borrowed the characters from controversial old sit-com _Love Thy Neighbour_, which was about war over the garden fence between a white racist and his West Indian neighbours. Could not resist translating this to Ankh-Morpork to see if it worked.

Also quite a few sideways references to Blue Öyster Cult songs and band members. Maybe only for the fans, though! I've tried to parody the style of Bulfinch's Mythology (ponderous 18th/19th century prose) with Discworldian optional spellings. irritatingly all the multiple exclamation marks were censored out of the original upload (FF does things like this) so I'm hoping they carry over this time.


	5. Save me from the death-like creatures!

_**A sort of a Zoo Tale**_

_Returning to the Ankh-Morpork City Zoo, by a roundabout route_

_**The strange fifth chapter. In which things may be resolved.**_

Johanna reviewed some routine paperwork. This included the observation report submitted by student wizard Marcus Porringer. It was a short report, in which words like "blue", "glooping" and "inert" featured largely. It concluded on the words:

_Oystters remain Blue. Definitely not Occult._

She frowned. If any of her students turned in work like this, there would be a red-ink reply written at the bottom along the lines of _**"D-. See Me!"**_ Ah well. She'd have a quiet word later with Bruce Berwin. At least it was Saturday morning. While it was a school half-day, she'd taken care to book leave after performing her monthly Watch duty as a Special. Another teacher was covering her class this morning. Just as well; the night with the Watch had left her feeling tired. Deciding there was nothing more to do about the oyster situation, it might be best to wait and see what happened next. And in the meantime, to snatch a little sleep. Dealing with eldritch occult manifestations would be best done with a clearer head after a few hours rest.

_Only act when you hear the screams, as Vetinari once said. _

She wrote a short note to be clacksed to the University, addressed to Professor Ponder Stibbons.** (1) **After detailing a duty keeper to send it off, she curled up in the most comfortable chair, tucked her legs underneath her, wrapped herself in her cloak, and allowed herself to drift off. The distant noises of the Zoo faded away with her consciousness.

* * *

The caretaker at the Koom Valley Memorial Halls was not surprised to see the Watch turn up in force. He opened up to Vimes and his search party and adopted a hangdog face, hunching himself deep in his brown coat.

"Official warrant to search." Vimes said. He brandished the paper. The old caretaker nodded, resignedly.

"It's those buggers from the Lancre School Of Morris-Dancing, isn't it?" he grumbled. "Allus knew they'd get into trouble, bloody maniacs."

"No, it's..."

"The Campaign For Real Custard, then. Meet here Wednesdays. They wuz talkin' about takin' _direct action_. Raidin' the factory that makes powdered custard, and doin' it over."

Vimes smiled. Over-helpful people when you did a bust could be a _bonus_.

"Still not it." he said. He observed Captain Carrot diligently making notes.

"Next Thursday night, they said. Would have been Wednesday, but young Nigel promised his mum he'd take her to his granny's. Not them, then? Bet it's the Ankh-Morpork Goat Fancy, then. Peculiar buggers for goats, they are..."

Vimes shook his head.

"Or is it them bloody monks, rent an upstairs room? I only let 'em in when they said they don't do animal sacrifice. Blood's a bugger to get off the lino, see. But between you and me, they're weird buggers!"

Vimes grinned.

"Show me." he said. Cheery, got the iconograph? Good."

* * *

"STI-_BBBONNNS_!"

The bellow echoed around the Library. The Librarian winced, and uncovered one ear to reprovingly point to the notice that said "SILENCE, PLEASE!" **(2)**

Mustrum Ridcully ignored him. His attention was elsewhere.

"And nobody thought to, you know, actually _tell_ me about this?" he said, in a deceptively quiet, calm, voice. "Eldritch manifestation of possibly rogue magic in the University library? Not a big matter, not worth disturbin' the Arch-Chancellor's peace of mind over?"

A group of Wizards, Students and Librarian shuffled uncertainly and tried not to meet his gaze. Blue light flickered and aurora'd about them.

Ponder Stibbons raced to the call.

"You wanted me, sir?" he asked, breathless.

Ridcully scowled and pointed upwards. Ponder followed his finger. The source of the mysterious blue light was up there in the dome, flickering around the eight regularly spaced statues.

"_Ideas, _Stibbons?" Ridcully asked, with ominously exaggerated patience. "No hurry. Take yer time."

Ponder gulped. He looked upward for clues. He noted one of the statues, but only one, was wreathed in an electric-blue nimbus. Auroric sheets of blue were dancing and flickering from it to the other seven. Occasionally a lightning-flash of blue shot back to the blue halo, and periodically a blue bolt linked two or more of the others. It was as if they were talking to each other. The seven statues not wreathed in blue light appeared to have a certain _expectancy_ about them, as if they were waiting for something to happen.

"Quite pretty, though." a wizard remarked. It sounded like the Dean of Pentacles.

"Could we bottle it?" asked the Senior Wrangler. "It'd save a lot of candles to light this place."

"The Seven-Ay Graces." Ridcully said. "Not too active in this city. It's the _other _**(four times two) ** buggers who have this place nailed down."

"We don't have any statues of _them_, do we?" Recent Runes asked, nervously.

"I seem to recall we've got them somewhere." Ridcully remarked. "Caravati originals, too. Then again, nobody needs 'em on display as a constant reminder of what they represent. Not around _here_. One of me predecessors had 'em moved down to a cellar somewhere."

Ridcully paused and scowled.

"Stibbons? At some point, lad, look out the other _nine-minus-one_, will you? Should be an inventory of art assets in the Dean's office. I'm getting' a feelin' here. If one lot are suddenly getting' frisky, it's a fair bet the others are, too."

"Yes, sir." Ponder said, watching the statues. He remembered going up to the gallery with Johanna. Had they stirred something up? The dust on the walkway had been quite thick. He, Johanna and the Librarian had probably been the first people to go up there in _years_.

He looked again. The centre of the disturbance appeared to be the one with the vague, unfocused, expression and the parsnips. As far as he could tell, the attention of the other seven appeared to be focused on her. He tried to recall... one of the two forgotten ones. Not Tubso.

"Bissonomy." he said, out loud.

"What about her, lad?" Ridcully said.

"She's the focus, Arch-Chancellor. Whatever's going on is centred on Bissonomy."

Ridcully nodded to the Librarian. "You run the library. Find out, would you?"

The Librarian knuckled off with an "ook!"

Ponder explained to Ridcully about the strange business at the Zoo, Vetinari's gnomic comment to Johanna, and her guided tour of the Shouting Gallery. He did not add that they were still baffled.

"There's no obvious link, sir. But it all seems connected."

"And the Librarian gave her a copy of Chaffinch." Ridcully said. "He usually finds the right book when we need it. Better find out if she's read it, lad, don't you think? Put yer heads together. Reminds me of something I read as a student. I really hope it's magic. The other thing involves me brother, and you know what the bloody Priests are like for demarcation."

And then a Bledlow walked in, frowned uncertainly at the light display, and handed over Johanna's clacks message. As the Bledlow beat a hasty retreat, Ponder read it and passed it over to Ridcully.

"Keep things here monitored." he said. "Evacuate the library, just to be on the safe side. Round up a couple of Wizards we can afford to lose if things go wrong, and get 'em to keep watch."

The librarian knuckled back with a second copy of Chaffinch.

"Oook, ook, OOOK!" he said, urgently. A hairy simian finger was pointing to the chapter on the Six Plus Two Graces. Ridcully and Ponder read it quickly. Then the Arch-Chancellor slammed the book closed.

"It'll happen at the Zoo." Ridcully said, decisively. "This is just a light show. Sonn et lumy air, and all that. Runes, Wrangler, Pentacles. You're with us. Get a fast coach. Move!"

* * *

And in one of the lower, maximum-security, cellars of the Library, red light flickered and shifted in an oily, greasy, sort of way between eight dusty long-neglected statues. Every quality has its opposite. Every anthropomorphic personality has an opposite and equal pole. And another Eight were stirring, as if in response to activity higher up...

* * *

Vimes, Carrot and the designated search team were led to an upper floor of the Koom Valley Memorial Halls. The elderly caretaker fumbled with a bunch of keys. Vimes allowed this; he could have had a troll kick the door in, but he believed in policing by co-operation. Besides, the old man had said those loony monks were probably off out, paradin' the streets and drummin' up converts. Vimes believed this. In a city like Ankh-Morpork, any religion, however strange, would attract converts. Street patrols would be watching, anyway.

"Ye Gods!" Vimes said, shaking his head. The assembly room had been turned into a bizarre temple, with drapings, wall-hangings and an altar at one end. It also smelt of seafood. Old seafood.

"Them bloody buggers said there wouldn't be any animal sacrifice!" the old caretaker said, indignantly. "They said nothin' about _fish_! The place bloody well stinks.."

"We'll take it from here, Mr Scrottins." Carrot said, ushering him out. "Thank you for your co-operation."

Vimes moved down the room. The usual folding chairs had been laid out in orderly rows facing the altar. He shook his head again.

"I don't know. It's at times like this that we really need a priest on the strength. Somebody who knows what he's looking at. We've recruited at least two of every other bugger, including Assassins. And there are Clown specials!"

"We _do_ have a Watch chaplain, sir. Two, in fact. Mr **B**ashfullson looks after the Dwarfs, as you know, and the Reverend Lamister volunteered his services to the Watch as a whole..."

"Not Lamister. He's an..."

"A well-meaning publicly-minded citizen who selflessly volunteered his professional services?" Carrot said, hurriedly.

Vimes nodded.

"That's what I said, Carrot. A complete berk with no idea. Shame our grag's out of town at the moment. I could use his insight."

Officers were searching the hall, in the usual methodical no-hurry way.

"Victor, what do you make of all this?" Vimes asked.

Detective-Sergeant Victor Tugelbend, one of those misfits who'd drifted through several false starts and finally returned to the City only to join the Watch **(3), **was studying the altar and the wall-hangings. So far the only Watch wizard, he had brought his professional skills to what was an attractive largely indoor job with no heavy lifting. As a detective, he was considered pretty good.

"We've got two symbols here." Tugelbend said. "They recur a lot, although they're not the only ones. For instance, this one over the altar, the tongue-in-the-triangle, that's a mystery. But the other two are clearly symbolic. If you recall, sir, the one we arrested, Fartmeister Carter, tried to paint his coat with mystic symbols. He didn't make a very good job of it, I have to say. But now I've seen what he was trying to copy... this one on the left is the normal _ankh. _You see it takes the form of a cross, but with the upright above the cross-bar replaced with a looped circle."

"Yes, _and_?" Vimes said.

"It's an ancient Djelibeybian symbol. It represents eternal life and perpetual rebirth. The loop symbolises the flow of the soul back into the cross, the soul eternally reborn back into the world."

Vimes nodded.

"A lot of religions use it. It's not exactly copyright."

"Public domain icon, sir. But the one over here.."

"The one that reminds me of a backwards question mark, like that punctuation mark the Toledans use at the start of a question?"

"_Inversion_, sir." said Tugelbend. He wondered whether to elaborate it by referring to Professor Cocklemann's lectures in _Semiotics for Magic-users_, but decided Vimes was not in the mood for anything intellectual.

"Magical symbols are shorthand for complex involved concepts. Inverting a symbol reverses its meaning. This also holds for symbols adopted by religions. Here, you see the _ankh_ has been turned upside down and reversed. The loop has also been broken. If the _ankh_ means eternal life and the circle of rebirth, then reversing it and breaking the loop means... death and destruction, sir. Entropy. Decay with the passage of time. Something stuck in a bad place. It's used in the rite of Ashe-Kent'e, that summons and binds Death."**(4)**

"So these buggers are invoking Death and destruction?" Vimes demanded.

Tugelbend had once read a symbolic code completely backwards and reversed its meaning. **(5) **He shook his head.

"Only if you read the two symbols in the conventional way, from left to right. We can't assume that. It could be they're trying to resurrect something out of death, or a death-like state, to return it to the world. Put that tongue-in-the-triangle thing in between the two, and I'd guess that refers to a spoken ritual of some kind that transforms and changes. But it all depends on what order you read the sequence."

"What about these things on the altar? Who sacrifices bloody _clams_ to a God? Or mussels? And..." he held up a bunch of withered elderly root vegetables. "_Parsnips_? Is there such a thing as a God of Parsnips? I mean, it's the wrong time of year for a Harvest Festival!"

"A _Goddess,_ sir." Tugelbend corrected him. "In Chaffinch's _Mythology, _there's a strange reference to a Goddess of Parsnips, Bissonomy."

Tugelbend would have said more, but one of the other searching officers was calling for Vimes' attention.

"Sir? There's a lot of money in this chest. And valuables."

A bit of strictly unofficial lock-picking had opened a strongbox. Vimes and Carrot looked down at a large amount of bank-notes and some interesting looking jewellery.

"I'll get this checked against theft reports, sir." Carrot said. "Maybe follow through the serial numbers on the bank-notes and see if they're listed as hot."

"Do that, Carrot... oh my. Is this a _membership list_?"

Vimes and Tugelbend scanned down the scroll.

"One or two Thieves' Guild members." Tugelbend remarked. "And this name, Maurice Calliman. Unlicenced thief. Didn't we book him a year or two ago for working that doorstop evangelism scam?"

"You knock on a door proclaiming to be delivering the infallible word of Om." Vimes said. "If somebody answers, one of the missionaries keeps the attention of the householder. The other asks if the householder will display Omnian charity and allow him to use the privvy. Instead he tours the house and nicks things. Cash, jewellery. Who'd suspect a Gods-botherer? And if nobody answers, it's a great cover for casing joints at leisure so you can come back after dark and exploit that window with the dodgy catch. Is that what these buggers are up to?"

"Well, we can pull people in now. We've got evidence to book them." Carrot remarked.

"I don't think it's just theft." Tugelbend said. "There are people here who genuinely believe. In _something_. And I doubt Carter was using it as a cover for thieving. He's not that subtle. So something else is going on here. Sir, I can taste tin in the air. Something involving magic or the supernatural is going on here."

Maybe a couple of opportunist thieves saw a chance and signed on." Vimes mused. "But this weird religion. Can we get a handle on this?"

The search continued.

* * *

Members of the Cult of the Blue Oyster had been arriving at the Zoo in twos and threes. Being only human, and Ankh-Morpork citizens determined to get their fifty pence worth, they were making their unhurried and generally unremarked way around the exhibits. Their entrance tickets paid for by Brother Bouchard – otherwise many would not have been able to pay four dollars a week for daily attendance – they were making the most of it before they Convened around Her, the _venerandum. _Other Zoo visitors, sensing the possibility of unwelcome evangelism, were giving them a wide berth. Only Detective-Sergeant Gerbilac and Lance-Constable Speaker, of the Cable Street Particulars, were covertly paying attention. Posing as a married couple enjoying a day off, they went un-noticed in the crowd.

Several Zoo golems were also keeping watch. Keepers Shtetl and Bubkis were also noting the growing number of robed and cowled monks.

"Shall We Inform Miss Smith-Rhodes?" Bubkis asked.

"No. She Was Out All Night With The Watch. Allow Her To Rest, For Now. There Will Be A Moment, But Not Yet."

* * *

"_Right. We're Back!" _ A voice said in a cellar underneath the Library. "_If They're Eight again, then so are We!" _

"_Oh, what's the point?" _said a gloomy and dejected voice._ "It'll all be the same in another thousand years."_

"_Shut your face, or I'll smash it in, right?" _said another voice. "_And if she doesn't bloody well stop snoring..."_

* * *

Vimes looked at the manuscript with distaste. He didn't like religious texts at the best of times. He wished Visit were here. But his most religious constable had been on the night shift last night, and anyway, his interpretation of any religion that was not Omnian was tinged with a lot of editorial content.

"So the Goddess Bissonomy was turned into a herd of oysters." he said, deciphering the portentious text with Tugelbend's help. "or a school. Or a shoal. Or whatever."

"Originally one of the Graces, or Virtues." Tugelbend said. "Elevated to Godhood by marriage to Blind Io. The other Gods resented this, so nobody on Dunmanifestin complained too much when she was returned to the world. Not alive, not dead. But with the sensory and intellectual abilities of a large shellfish."

Vimes recalled the previous evening. Johanna's information.

"And these people think that returning her to the world will somehow renew it and usher in a Golden Age." he said, as the pieces fitted together. "A Goddess. Who will undoubtedly be pissed off at a thousand or more years of inconvenience..."

"And looking to play catch-up." Tugelbend added.

Vimes was already running for the door.

Carrot, finish up here, would you? Seal the crime scene and leave a guard. We're going to the Zoo, people! Code Twenty-Three! **(6)**"

* * *

The monks were inexorably drifting down towards the Nocturnium. And the night-aquariums. Bubkis turned to Shtetl.

"I Believe That Now we Should Alert Miss Smith-Rhodes." the golem said. "I Sense Magic Will Be Involved."

* * *

Brother Bouchard gathered his flock around the Blessed Oyster Tank. He felt a sense of exultation. Now was the time! She would Arise! He put up a silent prayer for forgiveness for the way the Order had raised funds. Signing up several Thieves to do the fund-raising, no questions asked, squire, had been _unethical._ But all would be forgiven if it resulted in Her return. The ends justified the means, and a growing number of believers, visiting Her daily at fifty pence each, was not cheap. And those tightwads at the Zoo adamantly refused to give a group discount... a defrocked priest of the Church of Offler, Bouchard had been to seminary and trained assiduously for the priesthood. He knew how to hold a congregation. He knew the ropes. He also resented the Offlerians for excommunicating him for those little irregularities over money, and for the additions to the incense in the thurible that had made a whole church share a Rapture. He knew his associate, Brother Perlman, had never made it as far as priest; but the hopeless dreamer had unearthed all the clues as to the nature of Our Lady Bissonomy and the importance of oysters in the scheme of things. He'd written the liturgy, the hymnal, and codified the Gospel, after all.

And now it was about to happen...

"Are all here present?" he asked. He wasn't surprised the only absentee was the hopeless Brother Suck Bharma. He was also relieved. Carter had been a big amiable embarrassment, but nobody had the heart to throw him out: it would have been like kicking a puppy.

"Brothers, in true belief and faith in the goddess Bissonomy, let us begin the ritual. In the words of her prophet, Saint Desdinova, we stand at the place where the four winds meet, where the sum of the whole is greater than the parts..."

* * *

Johanna Smith-Rhodes was awoken by three things happening more or less simultaneously. However tired you are, it is hard to remain asleep when a Golem throws the door open.

And a commotion was beginning at the cash turnstile not far away from the Zoo Director's office. It had overtones of wizards objecting to having to pay fifty pence each to get in when the supernatural status quo of the Disc was at risk. She could clearly hear Ridcully remonstrating with Miss Hargreaves at the kiosk, who was quite rightly sticking to "no pay, no entry".

She sighed, stamped life back into her feet, and straightened her hat.

And then the Watch arrived. In force. She could hear Sam Vimes demanding entry on Watch business.

"Miss Smith-Rhodes. I Fear There Is A Disturbance. You Must Attend."

"I'll be right with you, Mr Bubkis."

She walked outside, feeling fragile from too little sleep and a sudden awakening, to wrangle Wizards and Watchmen, the Lore and the Law. She had a notion as to what the disturbance was.

* * *

The chanting and ceremony continued in the underground Hall. Some people had run away from it; others were crowded at a safe distance, watching the show. If anything, the blue radiance in the oyster tank had intensified by several orders of magnitude. Doctor Bruce Berwin elbowed his way to the front, half-dragging the reluctant student wizard, Marcus Porringer, who was dead on his feet and wishing fervently that he was tucked up in his bed in Weatherwax Terrace, his Hall of Residence.

"And your report said nothing significant was happening?" Berwin growled at him. He took stock. "Famous last flaming words, or what!"

Berwin wondered about intervening. Being a wizard, he wondered what spells would work. But he also tasted magic in the air, the tinny taste and smell. Any spell he cast might react unpredictably with whatever the flaming Ada was going on. Johanna would hunt him down if he wrecked her Zoo...

"_Hear them chatter on the tide!" _shouted Brother Bouchard, exultantly, above the chant.

Berwin craned forward. Was the water in the tank getting _agitated_...

"If I say "_Duck!_" or "_Run!_" then bloody well listen, OK?" he said to Porringer, who nodded miserably.

"_Halt in the name of the Law!" _echoed from somewhere behind them.

And:

"_This is against the Lore! Bloody well desist!"_

And, most frighteningly:

"_Just whet the bleddy Hell are you people pleying et?"_

* * *

Johanna had smoothed over the argument at the gate. She had requested Miss Hargreaves to view the five wizards as consultants brought in by the Watch to advise on a difficult disturbance that might be happening, and that in the circumstances they should not be charged. The Watchmen were of course on official business. _We had a Maccalariat on the Zoo strength for a while,_ she reflected._ Even the tigers hid. I put her on the kiosk and... well, __**nobody **__got in for free. She left after a while because she couldn't put up with the smells and she found the bonobo chimpanzees to be indecent..._

On the way round to the oyster tank, she compared notes with Ponder. Vimes swiftly briefed her on events as he'd seen them.

"All comin' to a head, then." Ridcully remarked. "Hopefully between us we can lance the boil, Sam."

"And nobody gets splashed by what's inside." added Vimes as they made their way down into the dark. All eyes turned to him. "Look, I've stood near Nobby when he does that thing with his boils..."

Cheery Littlebottom led the way. Her eyes were best adjusted for underground movement. But as they went deeper, the blue radiance grew stronger.

"Just like in the Library." Ridcully noted. "Same light, Sam."

And then they heard. And they saw.

"_Halt in the name of the Law!" _shouted Vimes, running.

"_This is against the Lore! Bloody well desist!" _shouted Ridcully. His voice boomed and magnified in the tunnel.

Johanna said, in her classroom voice:

"_Just whet the bleddy Hell are you people pleying et?"_

The circle of cowled monks carried on, disregarding them. Although they closed in and linked arms, with the two senior members in the middle, continuing their chant.

Vimes suddenly realised there was a complete absence of trolls and golems. Damn.

"Try to break that circle. Nick people". He advised his watchmen.

Ridcully levelled his staff threateningly. He spotted Bruce Berwin, who waved his arms frantically.

"Sir? I wouldn't. Random magic in a confined space!"

Ridcully lowered his staff.

"No firing, men!" he called. "Doctor Berwin, what do you suggest?"

"Maybe we should pile in with those Watchmen. They don't seem to be having much luck breaking that circle." Berwin suggested.

It was true. The monks weren't resisting so much as passively obstructing. And shoulder to shoulder with linked arms, if a Watchman tried to grab one, he or she was pulling on all thirty. This was hard for Watchmen to comprehend. If the suspect was offering resistance, the solution was easy: return with fifteen inches of hardwood persuasion. But when they weren't actually _fighting_ as such, just standing there with linked arms... And all the time the chanting went on...

"_Something's happening_!" Ponder Stibbons shouted.

There was a shimmering in the air. Ridcully forcibly prevented Runes and Pentacles from levelling their staffs and zapping. Even the Watchmen fell back. The watching crowd went "_oooh_!" in excitement.

The shimmering coalesced into the outlines of a group of women dressed in flowing white robes. Vimes grimaced. _Bloody supernatural entities._

As the women took tangible form, there was a dead silence. It was broken by a low voice.

"I saw them last night..."

"Did you." Bruce Berwin said. "Did it not occur to you to put it in your flaming report?"

"Well, I thought I'd dreamt it..."

Berwin shook his head. "Strewth, mate. Have you not learnt by now that when a wizard has a dream, it's likely to be _more_ than a dream? And _you didn't report it_?"

Johanna gave the student Wizard a long hard look.

"You are Marcus Porringer?" she asked. "Thet wes a bleddy awful report, Mr Porringer!"

"I'll talk to you later, lad." Ridcully said, curtly. He turned to the manifestation. The shortest, fattest and most disgruntled-looking of the women in white stepped forward, arms folded in front of her.

"Well?" she said. "What are you waiting for? You summoned us. Finish the bleeding ritual. Pronto!"

"You heard the lady!" Mustrum Ridcully said, jovially. "Better get on with it, don'cher'think?"

Her foot tapped impatiently on the concrete floor. Brother Bouchard gulped, then resumed the chant. The blue light intensified. There was a castanet-like clicking coming from somewhere, muffled slightly by water and glass. Johanna realised it was made by shells chattering together. The … _six_... white-robed women clustered forwards to watch. Johanna recognised them from their statues in the University Library. But there should be eight. Which one was missing?

_She came from the dark, she came from a dream;_

_From prison and chains, she arises, Queen;_

_Born out of the night, called forth into Light.._

And then the tank exploded, in slow motion.

Water and fragments of glass cascaded everywhere. The blue light flared to eye-watering proportions. Blinking back the after-images, and waiting while the torrent of water slowed to a steady drip, Johanna thought she could see another white-clad woman standing unsteadily outside the tank. But what was happening over _there_...

"Biss! Biss, love! You're back!" the little plump one shouted, racing forward. Meanwhile the cowled monks knelt and fervently prayed

"Bissonomy! Great Queen! Lead us!"

Still blinking away after-images, Johanna tried to focus on what was going on directly opposite. Was she the only one to see this? No, Ponder was there, cleaning his glasses and blinking owlishly. _This_ glow was an unhealthy-looking red tinged with magenta. Ponder called "Sir?" in Ridcully's direction. The Arch-Chancellor turned and said

"Ah, yes, lad. I did anticipate this. Equal and opposite, you follow?"

The red glow was resolving itself into the images of another seven classically draped women. Only _this_ seven were robed in red and black. Something about them both repelled and attracted at the same time.

"It's the other team, lad. If the ladies in white are the Virtues, these are the opposition. Red and black. It's their colour scheme. You follow?"

"Just how many damn bloody supernatural manifestations are we going to _get_ round here?" a voice demanded. Johanna recognised Sam Vimes. It was a question she wanted to ask herself.

She watched, as the white-clad Virtues squared up against the red and the black of the Vices.

"Mr Ridcully," she asked, in a low voice. "Whet heppens if they touch? If Humility, for instence, were to make physical contact with Pride. Would they cencel each other out end cease to be?"

"Good question, m'dear." Ridcully said. "It wouldn't hurt to find out. And I don't know if you Assassins get to see, but the fellow with the scythe is here."

Ridcully tipped his hat in the direction of a seemingly empty space. To Johanna, it was like that eerie moment in the life of a pet-owner, where your cats stop what they're doing and all of them stare intently at the same empty spot on the wall. She'd seen lions do this. Six wizards and one student all turned and looked at the same empty spot, with Recent Runes, the oldest, looking distinctly worried.

THANK YOU FOR THE COURTESY, MR RIDCULLY.

Johanna could sense the harmonics of the words, like a bass string throbbing at the edge of hearing, or the first tremor of an earthquake. Even though Death was quite often in the vicinity of an Assassin, members of the Guild preferred, on the whole, _not_ to see him. As seeing him usually meant you'd fouled up the contract.

"Why are you here?" demanded a Virtue who Johanna identified as Diligencia. She levelled her broom threateningly. A spokes-Vice stepped forward.

"We have learned the curse on Bissonomy was to be lifted through human intervention." she said, pausing to run her fingers through her hair. "How do I _look,_ darlings? Am I sounding magisterial enough?"

"Get _on_ with it, Vanity." another Vice said, peevishly.

"Anyway. Now you are Eight again, it restores the status quo. If you manifest to humans, we also have a right to manifest. So... we're here. You may applaud, humans."

The crowd applauded. Vanity took a little bow.

"Eight?" said another Vice. "I can only count _seven_ of you. Even counting Bissonomy."

"Do you know." Diligence said, "I can only count seven of _you_?"

Then both teams broke into separate huddles.

"_Where the Hell's Fortitude?"_

"_Up above, I think. Playing with her pussies... stop sniggering, Tubso!"_

"_OK, who's missing?"_

"_Sloth. Wouldn't you just coco? She said she'd catch us up."_

"_Anger? Go and fetch her, would you? Thanks."_

There was a long embarrassed pause. Charity brought out a packet of cigarettes and handed them around.

"Don't mind if I do, thanks." said Greed, taking the packet.

"Errr..." Charity said, meaningfully. The packet was reluctantly handed back.

"I could covet one of those." Envy said.

There was a disturbance at the back of the watching crowd. It turned out to be the missing Virtue, Fortitude. The fact she was escorted by a mature male lion was not lost on the people watching.

"It's OK, he's an old sweetie, really." Fortitude said, cheerfully. "Gentle as a lamb. He'll do anything for me, won't you, sweetie?"

The lion rubbed against her legs as if it was a fond but over-large tabby.

At the same time, a feebly protesting Vice was being dragged in by a scowling Anger.

"Will you come _on_, you bone idle bitch!"

"Excuse _me_. Bone idle. Sloth. Says it on the label. And your point is?"

Johanna shook her head, and walked over to Fortitude.

"When you're finished with thet lion, I'd quite like to hev it beck." she said, in a voice that held hints of Teatime Prize.

"Beautiful, isn't he?" Fortitude said, scratching him behind the ear. Johanna sighed. Chaka Khan was the alpha male in the Zoo's pride, a big, bad-tempered male with an attitude problem. She noted a couple of Zoo golems had followed at a sensible distance. Good; they could catch and restrain if Fortitude lost interest or dematerialised, leaving a notoriously moody lion loose outside his enclosure. _Just like she did last night. _Ah well, for the moment he was happy. Wasn't Fortitude often depicted as taming a lion? She was on the Caroc card with one...**(7)**

Johanna remembered she was dealing with a Demigoddess. She forced herself to be diplomatic, although the words "Teatime Prize For Inhumation Of A Supernatural Entity" were forming at the back of her mind. And not in a theoretical sense.

Meanwhile, Ridcully and the wizards were in a watchful huddle.

"Anyone got any ideas, you men?" he asked.

"We're caught in a stand-off. Between two equally powerful blocs of supernatural entities. Who are squaring up for a fight. Er." said the Wrangler.

"Isn't this sort of thing your brother's job?" asked the Dean of Pentacles. "Looks like _religion_ to me, Mustrum. You know what the Priests are like for demarcation. Futile to hang on here, nothing we can do to help, and all that."

"I don't know about you chaps, but I'm starting to feel distinctly _peckish_." said Recent Runes. "If we were to set off now, we could make it back to the university in time for Early Lunch. With a good long nap afterwards."

There was a consensus of agreement. Ponder Stibbons, who was also beginning to feel as if he could murder a five-course lunch with cheeseboard afterwards, forced himself to think objectively. He saw the hugely obese Vice was watching them and grinning. He realised that he never had much more than a hurried sandwich for lunch. That, if he remembered. And he wondered about getting Johanna into her office, just the two of them, and... it was a warming, seductive, thought...

Ridcully growled, with more than the usual degree of irritation. It broke the spell for Ponder.

"Don't you _see_?" he shouted. "These are the Vices! They're getting to us! Block them out! Think like _wizards_!"

Ridcully shook his head.

"You're right, lad." he said, anger fading. "They're getting in where we're weakest. Try not to think food, men."

"A real shame Henry isn't with you." Gluttony said. "I have such fun with Henry. He's so _susceptible_!"

An impossibly beautiful Vice smiled at Ponder in a way that made him very uncomfortable. He looked away, reddening. The other wizards looked at him.

"I won't ask, lad." Ridcully said, kindly. "Wrangler, stop thinkin' of Mrs Whitlow, and kindly get back to the matter in hand, if you'd be so kind!"

Meanwhile, Sam Vimes appeared unaffected by anything in the psychic atmosphere. Anger looked at him, then scowled and shook her head.

"I can't get anywhere near him." she complained to Greed. "He's got protection from somewhere. It absorbs anything I throw and turns it. Makes it work for him instead of against him. Gods, that makes me so _angry_..."

Greed patted her arm sympathetically.

"I know how you feel, Ira. I've tried to get him to consider taking bribes. You just can't get anywhere near. Bloody Dwarfish mystical entities."

And the monks of the Blue Oyster knelt and worshipped their Goddess. But something was wrong... as Bouchard and Perlman led the chant of

_Guide us! Lead us! Save us! _

the Virtue Tubso was getting more and more alarmed.

Bissonomy was indeed a tall, stately, handsome woman, fit to be the consort of the Great God. But something was wrong. She looked vacant, absent, not entirely _there_. Her mouth opened and closed rhythmically. Her eyes were unfocused. She swayed as if in a breeze.

"Biss? Biss, love? Say _something_!" Tubso urged her, with increasing alarm. The other Virtues crowded round, concerned.

"Quick, get her something to drink!" urged Patience.

"I'm sure it's only temporary and she'll get back to normal soon..." said Hope.

Diligence found a member of the public who'd thought to bring a Thaumos flask**(9)**. "You don't mind? Thank you so much!" She effortlessly floated back through the makeshift Watch cordon that was holding back the crowd who'd stayed to watch, die-hard Ankh-Morporkians who had not been scared away by lion or supernatural entities.

"Shut those bloody monks up? Can't think for all this chanting..." said Chastity.

Diligence poured a cup of tea from the flask. She held it to Bissonomy's lips. Some flowed into her mouth, but did not go down. The restored virtue appeared to have forgotten how to swallow. It was as if her tongue would absorb the life-giving nutrients flowing over it from outsdie the Shell...

Sam Vimes laughed. He clapped Brother Bouchard on the back.

"Some New Age!" he said. "You know, I suspect your Goddess has been an oyster for so long she's forgotten how to be human!"

"Shape dictates form." agreed Mustrum Ridcully. "Like witches and Borrowing. You follow? A witch Borrows another form, she stays in it for too long, she forgets she's human and the borrowed form takes over. It's had more practice, d'y'see? I bet what you have there is an oyster with a bloody odd dream about bein' human! Or a humanoid entity that's dreamin' of bein' an oyster!"

Brother Bouchard stood, eyes staring wildly, body rigid. A red flush suffused him. Anger flowed through him, pure and elemental.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!"

The crowd of Monks parted as a hitherto un-noticed Vice, with a haggard face and sunken eyes in large black circles, sidled up to him. Her robes were a washed-out charcoal grey. She patted Bouchard on the back with a clammy unpleasant hand.

"It all comes to nothing in the end. You'll see." said Despair. "You might as well not try. It's all so... _futile!"_

Bouchard slumped. His body jerked. And then he fell.

* * *

BROTHER ALBERT BOUCHARD?

"Yes."

DO NOT BE AFRAID.

"I... have no fear."

YOU HAVE CEASED TO BE AS THEY ARE. TAKE MY HAND.

"Just let me say goodbye." Bouchard said, looking back for an instant. Death whistled. The white horse Binky trotted forward. After a while it flew away. The tigers in their enclosure looked curiously on as a large white horse burst through the ground and soared into the sky. Then they got on with their business, wondering why the humans hadn't noticed.

* * *

"We'd better get her out of here." Diligence said, with some sadness. "Hopefully she'll come into her right mind at some point."

"And then it's up to Dunmanifestin, and it's clobberin' time!" Tubso said, with some venom.

"You get to go to Dunmanifestin?" Envy said. "You lucky cows! What's it like?"

"We've got a time-share apartment." Charity said. "We all get to use it one week out of eight. What are your arrangements?"

Envy looked smug.

"_We_ each get our own luxury suite in Hell." she replied. "Fully en suite, no waiting, no sharing."

"I'm on the wrong bloody team." Charity said, enviously.

"We _could _try a job-swap, I suppose." Envy said, charitably.

And Sam Vimes and the Watch rounded up thirty dispirited monks for processing. Vetinari, supported by Hughnon Ridcully, would later rule the Cult of the Blue Oyster to be illegal and a danger to the City.

"What happens now, sir?" Ponder Stibbons asked, as the Watch led a column of arrestees away.

"It's all windin' down, lad. Bit of a damp squib, really. We'll probably never know what Virtue Bissonomy represented. Shame, that. They'll take her away somewhere, look after her, arrange round-the-clock nursin'. Maybe she'll carry on thinkin' she's an oyster in human shape. Maybe she'll snap out of it and remember, and _then_ she'll give Blind Io a good thumpin'. Love to see that!" Ridcully chuckled. Who knows? oh... and Johanna's got a bit of business to sort out... can't see Anger anywhere. Wonder where she went?"

* * *

Envy had in fact whispered something in the ear of her sister Anger. Who had scowled and rematerialised elsewhere in the Zoo to pick up _her_ totem animal, so as not to be disadvantaged in the presence of her opposite quality Fortitude.

"Right." she said. "now I've got your full attention. You're coming with _me_, my lad." There was a splashing noise and then...

* * *

There was a brief octarine flash in the air.

"_Flamin' Ada!" _shouted Doctor Bruce Berwin, as a thirty-foot Djelibeybian river crocodile appeared from nowhere. It looked disorientated for a moment, then realised it had an unparelleled opportunity to play catch-up. It bellowed a greeting, and ran for Bruce.

Anger grinned. Vengeance. A slight avenged with disproportionate force. What was there not to like? This was _fun._

As Bruce Berwin somehow leapt, twisted, then landed on the croc's back, seeking to clamp its jaws closed, two Zoo golems raced to assist.

Fortitude shook her head.

"Was that really necessary, Ira?" she inquired.

Anger grinned.

"You get lions." she said. "That bloody Überwaldean engraver couldn't get a dragon right. He drew me with a pet alligator as the next best thing.**(8)** Besides, all they've got here are swamp dragons. Not good for the image."

Anger drew closer to Fortitude. Johanna, recognising that Berwin and two Golems would deal with the crocodile, focused her attention on Chaka Khan. With alarm, she noticed that the nearer Anger got, the more the lion's natural bloody-mindedness was reasserting itself. And both the available golems were occupied with the crocodile problem.

She stepped forward.

"Thet's close enough, I think." she said, decisively.

Fortitude stepped close to her right, the lion hanging back, but beginning to groom itself at an unspoken command from the Virtue. Anger moved into her right.

"Johanna Famke Smith-Rhodes." Anger said, in a friendly voice. "Red-haired and green-eyed. Like me. An Assassin, trained to kill. Who has indeed inhumed on several occasions for the Guild. A veteran of a war in her own country. Who has killed in battle. Her country's foes called her the Red Death. A woman with anger management problems and a temper she finds hard to control. You are mine, I think."

Johanna felt impatience and irritation welling up inside her. She looked at Ponder Stibbons and wondered why he was such a wimp and a weakling. She could do better, find another more suitable male... and give up that teaching job with damn fool stupid clumsy children...

"Johanna Famke Smith-Rhodes." Fortitude said. "I am also red haired and green eyed. This is not a sign of ungovernable rage. You made a compact with others to become an ethical Assassin. To only take contracts where the client could be regarded as a dead man walking, one who has committed crimes or injustices or things so evil that only a death sentence would fit them. You have learned to control your rage. You fought well and nobly in service of your country. You raised a lion from a helpless cub and made him yours. You show the appropriate loving firmness to other animals. You have changed your inner self and no longer judge others on the basis of skin colour. You love a good man for his qualities of gentleness, intellect and human decency. You are therefore mine."

Johanna felt a warm compassionate sense of love welling up. She thought of Klarenz, her pet lion. She adored Ponder for his gentleness and lack of macho. Strength in the service of love, anger tamed and used productively.

An angel on one shoulder and a demon on the other.

She reached out her hands and simultaneously took the hands of Anger and Fortitude. For an instant, the elemental energies of both surged and flowed through her. She breathed hard and rode the force, mastering it.

Ponder and the wizards saw Johanna wreathed in both red and blue light, playing around her, streaming over her, making her hair stand and wave in the radiance, her body jerking as if shot.

"People created you." she said. "Therefore both of you are part of me. I eccept you both. But I remain human end free to choose!"

Johanna took the two hands and dragged them together with all her force. She clasped together the hands of Fortitude and Anger.

There was a double scream. And both disappeared.

"Oh, bravo, that girl!" Ridcully applauded. The other Virtues and Vices looked at her, dumbstruck.

"Bloody Hell!" said Tubso.

"Assassin..." said Lust.

"Teatime Prize." said Charity.

"I'm out of here." said Greed.

Silence nodded her fervent agreement. There was a shift in reality...

And then only humans were in the exhibition hall.

The residual crowd applauded, uncertainly. Johanna staggered forward. Ponder caught her. She righted herself.

"Mr Shtetl". she said, after a long pause. "When you've dealt with returning thet crocodile to its enclosure. Please clean up the mess here."

She indicated the shattered tank. Which had no trace of oysters in it.

"All these people. Please leave. Now. This space is temporarily closed. Wetch members, please escort them out. Thenk you."

Johanna stepped forward to a puzzled lion. No golems available. She'd have to do this herself. But it shouldn't be a problem... She stroked its mane, something in normal circumstance she would not dream of doing to Chaka Khan. But if she'd guessed right, the effect should last for just long enough...

"Come with me." she said. The lion fell into obedient step, sensing the beautiful red-haired woman it loved and adored.

_There will be other golems outside to assist_, she thought.

"Ponder, I need to walk Chaka back to the lion enclosure. I won't be long." she said.

Ridcully patted the younger wizard's shoulder.

"I daresay she'll be safe enough. She's absorbed enough Virtue. For now."

"Did she kill them, sir?"

Ridcully shook his head.

"The human race is still going to get angry, lad. And people are still going to be able to bite it back, and refrain from goin' postal. They'll be back, alright. It's too engrained. But I tell you what, when I see Donald Downey next, I'll be tellin' him who to award the Teatime Prize to! Now, you fellows, we're late for lunch."

He paused.

"What did you learn today, young Porringer?"

The student, in a place beyond fear and dismay, shrugged.

"When I'm writing observational notes, sir, leave nothing out."

"Good enough. You'll make a wizard yet. Comin'?"

And the wizards followed the woman and the lion, but at a safe distance.

* * *

**(1) **_p_stibbons© uu. ac. am._

**(2) **The_ Librarian would have made the point a lot more emphatically to anyone else making noise in his Library. But the Arch-Chancellor counted as Dominant Alpha Male in the simian mind and thus required deference and diplomacy. _

**(3) **Victor_ Tugelbend's life after the end of "Moving Pictures" is not documented. I have had him return to Ankh-Morpork and join all of life's other misfits in the Watch, in his case as a detective constable in the Cable Street Particulars. Approached to rule on his wizard status, Mustrum Ridcully invoked the "great service to wizardry" clause that saved Rincewind, and awarded him a degree. After all, Tugelbend's knowledge of wizardry does rival that of Eighth Level adepts and he did save the world. Some finessing by Carrot got him into the Watch - "after all, sir, he wasn't officially a wizard when I signed him up. He was a former student who failed all his exams, just an ordinary citizen". Vimes gave up and the Watch got its first Wizard. _

**(4) **Tugelbend_ is describing the hooked cross symbol, used in Roundworld mysticism to symbolise the god/planet Saturn and the negative entropy brought about by Time (Chronos). It also symbolises lead – a **heavy metal – **and is possibly best known as the band logo for heavy rock group the Blue Öyster Cult..._

**(5) **Refer_ to **Moving Pictures** by Terry Pratchett. Victor would never make that error again._

**(6) **Watchmen_ dread this. A Code Twenty-Three is police shorthand for "serious paranormal disturbance involving Gods, Demons, Random Magic applied With Malice Aforethought, Intrusions from the Dungeon Dimensions, or Other Things With Too Many Tentacles"_

**(7) **The_ relevant Tarot card depicts Fortitude (Strength) with her attendant lion: the theme is Beast Tamed By Beauty._

**(8) **German_ artist Albrecht Dürer did an engraving of Anger with a totem crocodile, intending it to be a counterbalancing opposite to Fortitude's lion: an ignoble river lizard famed for its anger and rapaciousness. Some people wonder if he was gunning for a small dragon._

**(9)** _like a Thermos Flask, only the liquid is kept at the desired temperature by a thermosensitive imp. Another technomantic breakthrough from the boys at the Thaumatalogical park._

* * *

_**References:**_

_**LP's: Fire of Unknown Origin (the Blue Öyster Cult) (album cover)**_

_**Secret Treaties, Imaginos – for song SubHuman / Blue Öyster Cult**_

_**And of course that other obscure Blue Öyster Cult Song...**_

_**That's it! finished! And now for the other uncompleted tales... i count six...**_


End file.
